Unmoved The Fic
by iyaorisha
Summary: AU S7. Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?
1. Default Chapter

"Unmoved"  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us"  
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com  
  
***  
Chapter 1  
  
The little girl was lost, but she didn't know it yet. The streets all tended to look the same in this area, and the approaching dusk made it harder to make out far away landmarks. So, she kept walking even though each step took her further and further away from both her own home and her grandmother's house. Only when she came to the little square did Deira realize that she had gone astray. By then, it was too late.  
  
Charlotte Madeira Layton, age 6 and 1/2, had run away from home. At first, it seemed like a good idea, an adventure even. But now, she was lost.  
  
She sat on a bench and began to cry.  
  
"There, there my darling, dry your tears."  
  
Deira looked up in surprise. A man stood at her side, offering a neatly folded handkerchief in one hand.   
  
Her mother had warned her not to talk with strangers. But the man seemed kind. His blue eyes were full of concern and his voice was soft, unlike her stepfather's.  
  
She reached out to take the handkerchief from him, but he hunkered down instead and gently wiped her face. "Now, why is such a pretty girl crying?"  
  
She opened her mouth, but she didn't know where to begin. The man waited patiently, his gentian eyes full of concern. Finally, Deira shook her head shyly.  
  
"Let me guess, you're lost?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Do you live nearby?"  
  
She started to nod again and then, shook her head instead. Then she remembered and nodded vigorously  
  
"Yes. No. Yes. Hmm." He raised an eyebrow. "You used to live around here?"  
  
Another nod.  
  
"But now you don't anymore?"  
  
A sad little shake.  
  
"However, if you could, you would again."  
  
Deira's green eyes widened in surprise.  
  
He understood. In her whole life, she had only met one other adult who understood her wishes and dreams -her grandmother. She decided to confide in the man. "I ran away from home," she whispered. "I'm going to live with Grandma Lottie."   
  
"Ah, that was a bold thing to do. You must be a terribly brave little girl." He smiled.  
  
Deira smiled back and her fear left her. She told the man everything. How she had waited until her mother laid down for an afternoon nap. Then she quickly changed into her favorite dress and gone out the side door. Left before her stepfather came home and the shouting began. Yelling at her mother because there was stew instead of chops. Bellowing at her brothers and new step-brothers because they had left their toys on the stairs or muddied the entryway floor or torn their clothes playing. Snarling at her because she was a girl, and therefore, useless.  
  
In the three months since her mother, Nellie Madeira Layton had married Samuel Packard, the little girl had heard more arguing and curses than in all her life prior. Packard was a coarse man who'd married well above himself when he took the widow Layton as his third wife. Nellie had seemed grateful enough for his attentions before the marriage, but he suspected that sooner or later, she'd throw her middle-class background in his face. So he lashed out at her and their combined brood of nine children.  
  
Nellie, accustomed to servants and unused to budgeting, gave her new husband plenty of fuel for his rage. The food she bought was poor in quality and scant in quantity. Her cooking did little to improve it. When she brought a platter of scorched eggs and undercooked rashers to the breakfast table, Packard lunged out of his chair and threw the food at the wall with a foul oath. Nellie cringed when her husband. Finally, she thought, the blow would come and everything that her former mother-in-law predicted would come to pass.   
  
But Packard merely gave her a look of utter contempt and stalked off, calling to his two oldest sons. They had work to do. Asa and Seth hesitated, their eyes full of shame and sympathy. But, at Packard's second roar of their names, the youths silently rose and followed their father out into the morning mist.  
  
For several minutes, Nellie and the younger children were frozen with shock. She stared at the mess on the wall and floor. The platter had been from her first marriage (a lifetime ago, she thought); the food the best she could manage.  
  
Deira watched her mother struggle to hold back sobs as she knelt, trying to salvage edible portions from among the shards of china. When the meager remnants were doled out to the hungry and frightened children, the little girl noticed the food on her plate was flecked with dust and what appeared to be blood. She barely made it to the privy before her stomach emptied itself of the milky tea she'd swallowed before her stepfather's rage.  
  
As she retched into the stinking hole, a single word formed in her mind. Enough. She decided to return to her grandmother's house where she, her mother, and brothers lived after her father died.   
  
It was quiet there, she told the man. Quiet and clean, with her own little room tucked under the eaves, and plenty to eat. A proper tea with both warm and cold things to eat; not just whatever was left over once Packard and his oldest sons had eaten. And pudding every day! (The last was a bit of exaggeration. It was true that with money tight, Nellie splurged on meat and eggs not sugar. Thus, Deira hadn't tasted a single sweet since the wedding cake. And so, her child's mind turned the Sunday night cake or jellie into a daily treat.)  
  
Deira had lived in her paternal grandmother's house since she was three and she thought that she knew the way there. But in truth, her stepfather had not allowed a visit back to Grandmother Lottie since the wedding. Three months is a long time for a child and Deira's memory had faded. She was lost.  
  
The man sat patiently, listening to it all. When Deira finished, he ran a hand through his blond hair and looked at her intently.   
  
"They'll be worried, then?"  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"Why? Won't they notice that you're gone?"  
  
"Oh no," Deira shook her head so emphatically that her long chestnut curls flew. "They hardly notice me at all. Once I spent the whole afternoon in the garden and when I came inside to ask for tea, Mama had served it already."  
  
A little half smile flickered at the corners of the man's mouth. "Hmm. They might not notice you, little Deira, but others do."  
  
She tilted her head and looked at him, puzzled.  
  
"Others notice you. Your beauty." The man reached out and stroked the little girl's cheek with his fingertips. His touch was chilly and it made her tummy feel odd, but she didn't flinch. He seemed to smile approvingly, added "And your spirit."  
  
"My spirit?" she said wonderingly. "Do you mean my soul?" She frowned with the effort to understand.  
  
"No. Your vitality. The life force within you."  
  
The little girl's brows scrunched up even more. "My life force?"  
  
The man reached out and ever so gently, took her chin and turned her face so that she looked away from him, out into the night. With his other hand, he pushed her glossy thick hair behind her ear so that the side of her neck was exposed. Then he traced the vein there with a finger. "Yes, your life force."  
  
This time, she shivered from the contact with his icy finger. The man seemed disappointed as he dropped his hand. "It's late, darling. Are you sure you won't be missed?"  
  
"No. Little girls like me disappear everyday. No one seems to care. That's what they count on."  
  
He seemed taken aback, as though he thought it was a strange thing to say. "Who, Deira? Who is counting on it?"  
  
"The ones who notice me." She took a little quick peek at him, her eyes glimmering Pernod green beneath the thick lashes. He could see that her forehead was still wrinkled in confusion. "Why do they notice me? Tell me again" she asked.  
  
"It's your life force." He repeated. "They sense it. And it calls them to you."  
  
"Why?" Deira said in a voice so soft that he leaned closer.  
  
"It is something they lack." He whispered into the perfect pale pink shell of her ear. "They hunger for it."  
  
"Oh!" She exclaimed, then even softer. "I am hungry."  
  
When she turned to face him, he thought, it's all wrong. His eyes should be the ones gleaming yellow. His features the ones changing to show the demon. He raised a hand to his face in confusion and felt spectacles. "No!" He snatched them off, a movement that sent a sheaf of soft, wavy dark blond hair tumbling down into his eyes. The spectacles fell to the cobblestones, tinkling as they broke.   
  
"No! Change!" he pled as his heart thudded painfully. "Change now!"  
  
Without the glasses, his vision was blurry. Still, at the corner of his eye, he could see her. What she had become.  
  
Deira crouched on the bench. He couldn't mistake her growing hunger; he knew it too well. Blood thirst is stronger than any human desire. Even if enough had been consumed to sate a thousand vampires, the yearning to drink would still remain. The craving quickened preternatural senses so that the most trace amounts of blood were instantly detectable. And, yet it also made one feel intoxicated -at times, during the hunt, he almost reeled from the desire.   
  
Blood thirst was the very essence of want. Unfulfilled, it quickly became a palpable thing. He could feel it now, in the hunger of the small girl beside him.  
  
"Are you sure you won't be missed?" She asked softly. "After all, you're noticed, too."  
  
He shook his head, cried vehemently. "No, I'm not!"   
  
She laughed. "Of course you are. You just didn't know." A little half-smile revealed the tiny points of her fangs. "They count on that, too, you know." She added sagely.  
  
He looked away. Shut his eyes so that he wouldn't see the little vampire staring at him. Wasn't that his childhood comfort, shutting his eyes in the belief that if he couldn't see awful things like the bogeyman under the stair, they couldn't see him?   
  
But even with his eyes screwed shut, he couldn't escape his awareness of her voracity. Like all things evil and obscene, it had a physical presence --a weight to it-even though it lacked actual form. The magnitude of young Deira's blood thirst was so great that he felt it had a pull over him, like the Moon's effect on open water.  
  
The gravity of her hunger and the enormous unfairness of it all, froze him in place the moment before she struck.   
  
William screamed.  
  
***  
  
Spike thrashed his way free of the bed-coverings and leapt to his feet. He threw his head back, gulped down unneeded air. As the panic subsided, he remembered where he was: Buffy's basement. The realization brought a new dread --had he cried out in horror? If so, did the girls hear him? The vampire waited a minute to see if anyone knocked at the basement door, called down the stairs to see if he was okay. Dawn and Willow each had done that once during the fortnight since he came to stay at the house. Either Buffy never heard him or she didn't care enough to find out why he was screaming.   
  
The Deira dream was the fourth nightmare this week. Not the worst of them all (that had been the Russian orphanage he and Dru laid to waste). But it was the second one in which he was the victim. An unpleasant turn-of-events if there ever was one.   
  
Such nightmares didn't make him feel as awful as the ones in which the people he had eaten returned to berate him for their murders. Nonetheless, the dreamfeel of the little girl's teeth driving into his jugular had been bad enough to kill any desire to go back to sleep.   
  
Spike sat on the edge of the cot and ran a hand through sleep-rumpled hair. Dreams of the earliest victims were the most horrid. How was it that he remembered their names and faces after a dozen decades?   
  
Vampires typically have near perfect recall when it comes to useful information-- things necessary for their survival like territorial borders or locations of stashes of cash and jewelry. Otherwise, their memories tended to be poor. How often had he heard Darla brag that she couldn't remember her parents' names? He, too, had once struggled to recall his mother's face, once so beloved.  
  
So why did he remember the exact shade of pink Deira was wearing the night he killed her? Or the pattern of the waistcoat worn by Harold Mayhew, a young missionary he had lured into an opium den with a tale of a missing sister. Had his fledgling self filed all these details away out of unconscious guilt? Spike shuddered at the thought of such memories stockpiled, dormant but malignant in his mind. It was as if they had lain in wait all these years to be awakened by his restored soul.  
  
"Bah!" he shouted and stood up. He had to shake off this negative mindset -it could only lead to brooding and paranoia. One only had to look at Angel to see that. And Spike would dust himself before he ended up that way.  
  
***  
"I'm going to dust him!"   
  
"Xander, calm down." Buffy planted a hand on the middle of his chest. The construction worker was strong, but he couldn't get past the Slayer if she didn't want him to.  
  
"Why is he still here?" He fumed. "You said a week. One week. It's been two."  
  
"Not yet." Dawn piped up. "It'll be two weeks tomorrow."  
  
"And he'll be gone tomorrow." Buffy said appeasingly.  
  
Xander would not be appeased. "Why not tonight?"  
  
"I need to remove the charges that I set in the crypt before he moves back in. I don't have time to do it today."  
  
He shrugged. "So Spike blows himself to bits." He relented when he saw the look on Dawn's face. "Look, I can do it. I helped down at the construction site last week. Didn't look all that hard."  
  
"No way, mister." Buffy laughed. "You'd be the one in bits! It can wait until tomorrow."  
  
"Plus, Buffy has to work late." Dawn said quickly. "She can't walk me home. I need Spike to pick me up from my SAT class tonight."  
  
Xander started to yell something and then stopped. "SAT? You're taking the SATs?"  
  
Both girls nodded.  
  
"How is that possible? You're a kid. Um, 14 right?"  
  
Dawn gritted her teeth. "I'm almost 16."  
  
Xander pressed his palms to his forehead. "You had a birthday. How did I miss that?" he muttered.  
  
"You've just been busy." The teen said softly. "The wedding and then the...not wedding."  
  
"Not to mention stopping your best friend from destroying the world." said a voice from the stairs.  
  
They looked up. Willow stood there, a spiral notebook clutched in one hand. "I heard the shouting. Shouldn't pique my curiosity at this point, but I came running anyway."  
  
"Sorry, Wil." Xander smiled sheepishly. "Looks like you're studying."  
  
The redhead blushed. "No, it's my journal. Just some stuff I'm trying to work out before my therapy session tonight."  
  
There was an awkward silence. No one was ever quite sure what to say when the subject of Willow's addiction to magick came up. And it seemed to come up a lot these days. Part of Willow's recovery plan was to be as candid and honest about her addiction as possible.   
  
She couldn't understand why her friends were so uncomfortable when she talked about her daily struggle. After all, they were incredibly supportive of her decision to spend a month at the Druidic treatment center in Wales. And when she returned home with a list of places and activities that she should avoid in order to ward off a relapse, her friends gladly altered their routines. But, everyone seemed to tense up whenever she mentioned therapy.  
  
"That's great, Wil." They would murmur when she announced a breakthough. Then, someone would quickly change the topic. Sometimes, even as she spoke, Willow could see the gears in their heads turning frantically in search of something else to talk about.  
  
"Well, I guess I'd better get back to it." she said with feigned cheerfulness and tried not to notice the relief in their eyes as she climbed back upstairs.  
  
Xander sighed. "Buffy..."  
  
"I know. Spike. Gone tomorrow."  
  
"Good. But I was actually going to say that since Dawnie's fifteen." He shook his head "Are you sure you're fifteen?"  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes.  
  
"Well, I thought, maybe next week, I'd take her for her learner's. If it's okay with you?"  
  
The squeal of delight from the brunette was nearly deafening. She gave Xander a rib-cracking hug and then turned to her sister. "Say yes! You've got to say yes! Janice has had hers for four months now."  
  
"I don't know, Xan?" Buffy teased.   
  
"She can't be any worse than you were." Xander cringed with the memory of the last time Buffy was behind the wheel.  
  
"Hey!" The blonde punched him lightly.  
  
"Remember the time you almost ran down Willow's dad on his own lawn..." Xander bent over double from laughing.  
  
Buffy tried to look mad, but then she started laughing, too. Mr. Rosenberg still wasn't speaking to her.  
  
Dawn couldn't believe they were joking around when her whole life hung in the balance. "You guys!"  
  
***  
  
Normally, the pain was so bad that all her other senses were dulled by it. Colors, smells, sounds: all faded. But their laughter reached her as clear as a bell. Penetrating the pain, rousing her anger.  
  
Anger always came with the pain now. Watching them go about their lives as if it had never happened, as if the death was forgotten already. But it wasn't. She could never forget.   
  
Eight years ago, she left this town and vowed to never return. The dark energies of the Hellmouth were beginning to consume her. She had to go nearly a thousand miles away before she no longer felt the tug of it on a daily basis. And still, it had called to her every time her twin let borrowed power course through him.   
  
She had come back to Sunnydale for one reason only -- to make Willow Rosenberg pay for Rack's death. Her brother would not go unavenged.  
  
***  
  
(Continued in Chapter 2) 


	2. Chapter 2

Unmoved  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us"  
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com  
  
***  
Chapter 2  
  
September 4,  
  
There was a new woman in therapy today, Ravesa Kadare. She grew up in Sunnydale, but she left when she was eighteen. The Hellmouth was too much for her. Ravesa says she realized she was addicted to magick as soon as she got away. A friend helped her go cold turkey and she's been clean for eight years. Even Dr Scherling was impressed that she hasn't had a single relapse.  
Anyway, Ravesa only came back to Sunnydale to deal with some stuff after a relative died. I guess that means she'll be leaving soon. It's kinda too bad. We had coffee together afterwards and she seems really nice.  
  
Willow scratched out the last word. "Nice" was too mild a word. Ravesa was more than nice. She was warm and funny and smart. And the first person in her therapy group with whom Willow had really connected. Now, if only she could put it into words without it sound like some teenage crush.  
  
Was it a crush?  
  
The redhead closed her journal and rolled over onto her back.  
  
It was nearly seven and she hadn't started dinner yet or studied for tomorrow's classes. All she had accomplished since she came home at six was to think about Ravesa. What Ravesa had said in therapy and afterwards at the Expresso Pump. How Ravesa appeared to understand perfectly what Willow herself spoke about. When they parted at the bus shelter, Ravesa had given her a hug goodbye that seemed so natural although they had just met two hours before. On the ride home, Willow had been so busy replaying their conversations and wondering when she'd see Ravesa again that she had gone right by her stop without noticing.  
  
If that isn't a crush, Willow thought. And yet, it didn't feel quite that way, not the way she'd initially felt about Tara or Oz. And while Ravesa was certainly good-looking --tall and shapely with perfect olive skin and masses of dark wavy hair--, Willow didn't feel a sexual attraction to her.  
  
Rather, she felt like she was talking to the sister that she never had. The sister that she thought she'd found in Buffy, until the events of last summer created a gulf between them that neither girl seemed to know how to cross. Maybe Ravesa would know how to heal that uneasiness. Willow wondered when she would see her new friend again. Perhaps she could get Ravesa phone number from Dr. Scherling.  
  
Willow laughed, "Okay, now I sound obsessed!"  
  
***  
  
"And I would be the one  
to hold you down   
kiss you so hard  
I'll take your breath away."  
  
Buffy slammed her hand down on the off button.   
  
"Hey! I like that song," Dawn protested. She reached out to turn the radio back on. Her sister blocked her.  
  
"Well, I don't." Buffy said. She sat back down and picked up the stack of bills.  
  
"So don't listen." Dawn hit the on button.   
  
"Nothing stands between us here, and I won't be denied" Sarah McLachlan sang before Buffy yanked the cord out of the outlet.   
  
"What is your problem, Buffy? It's just a song."  
  
"It's about a stalker."  
  
The teen shrugged. "Soooo?"  
  
"It's a sick song. It sounds sympathetic...no, that's not the word.  
  
"Empathic?" Dawn offered.  
  
"Yeah. Hey, you have been studying that SAT review book." Buffy gave her sister a smile.  
  
Dawn shrugged. "I guess I'd better get a good score if I want a scholarship. I mean I'll need one if I'm going to go to UC-Sunnydale, right? It's that or..."  
  
"Or minimum wage and hairnets at the Doublemeat?"  
  
Dawn couldn't mask the revulsion that flitted across her face. "Never..."  
  
"Why not? It puts food on the table, keeps this roof over our heads, and all those pretty new clothes on your back." Buffy said bitterly.  
  
"I didn't mean...I was going to say Sunnydale Community College...oh, I'm sorry Buffy!" Dawn looked like she was about to burst into tears.  
  
"I know." Buffy laid a hand on her sister's cheek. "Dawnie, I'm sorry I snapped at you. And I'm sorry that there isn't a nice fat college savings account for you. For that matter, I wish there were two of them." She smiled wryly. "But even double shifts at the Doublemeat won't pay college tuition. If you don't win a scholarship, you'll have to work and go to night classes at SCC."  
  
Dawn nodded. "SCC isn't that bad. No Greeks or football team. But no shadow military operations or pysch professors playing Frankenstein either."  
  
Both girls laughed.  
  
Then Buffy sobered. "I want the best for you, Dawn. Whatever is going to make you happy."  
  
"Then let Spike stay."   
  
Buffy knew that Dawn was serious, but she tried to keep her voice light. "I said I want what's best for you."  
  
The teen opened her mouth to protest, but the look on her sister's face stopped her. "Is it really awful for you? Having him around?"  
  
Buffy laced and unlaced her fingers a couple times before answering. "I feel like I can't relax with Spike here. It's not just...what he tried to do. I mean, I believe him when he says he'd never...never try to hurt me that way again. But he is a vampire. And his chip doesn't work anymore. How do we know that this soul is permanent?"  
  
Dawn shook her head. "Giles says since Spike won back his soul, his own soul, it's a keeper."  
  
"Giles could be wrong." Buffy said softly.  
  
There was a low snigger from the doorway "What's this heresy?" Spike asked as he navigated around the block of fading sunlight slanting across the floor.   
  
The sisters fell silent. Spike rummaged through the refrigerator and slopped pigs' blood into a mug. Buffy made a mental note to never use that mug again.  
  
"Well, what's the Watcher wrong about?" The vamp inquired as he waited for the microwave to warm his breakfast. The girls exchanged a look. "Um...Giles thinks that I'm training enough. Once a day, twice on Saturdays." Buffy lied. "And I think I need more of a challenge."  
  
"Like a Slayer Iron Man contest." Dawn chipped in.   
  
Spike raised an eyebrow.   
  
Buffy shook her head. "No. Not really. Just, um, more sparring."   
  
"You need to work on your lefts. You always hesitate with your left." The vampire demonstrated. "And when you duck, you almost always dip your right shoulder." He mimicked her movement and grinned.  
  
Both girls stared at him.   
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"How do you know that?" Dawn said in an amazed voice.  
  
Buffy's voice was laced with disdain. "He's watched me. And fought me. He learned all my flaws and weaknesses."  
  
Spike looked aggrieved. "I fought at your side for over a year, Buffy. How could I not notice?" How could I not notice everything about everything about you? He thought.  
  
There was another awkward silence.   
  
"Since Spike knows your patterns so well, maybe he can help you train?" Dawn suggested, then instantly regretted it.   
  
The vampire and Slayer stared at each other. Spike tried to seem casual, but his eyes revealed a guarded hope. Buffy's expression was indescribable. Dawn wondered if her sister was mad enough to change her mind about the learner's permit.  
  
Just then the microwave beeped. At the sound, Buffy stood up and left the room.  
  
Spike closed his eyes for a second and then opened the microwave.  
  
"I'm sorry." Dawn whispered to his back.  
  
"For what, Nibblet?" His voice was casual, but Dawn could detect the hurt.  
  
"I thought it might be a way for you to stay here. If you were helping her train." The teen sighed. "I've been trying so hard to find something."  
  
"Well don't waste your time. There's nothing that'll convince your big sis to let me stay." Spike winced at the way it sounded. "Besides, I'm ready to go."   
  
Dawn looked skeptical. "You are?"  
  
"Sure, The hole your sister put in me is healed." He lifted the mug of blood to his mouth and wrinkled his nose. "And, while free, the meals here leave something to be desired." As if to prove his point, the vampire took another sniff of the warm pigs' blood and dumped the mug down the drain. "Where's Red? Shouldn't she be down here slicing and dicing?"  
  
Dawn looked at the clock. It was later than Willow usually started dinner. I probably should go upstairs and remind her, she thought. But after we eat, Buffy will go to the crypt and remove the explosives. And then, Spike won't be here anymore. "I don't think she's home yet." The teen lied.  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow. It wasn't just that Dawn was a poor liar. His preternatural senses told him that the ex-witch was in the house. He could smell Willow's patchouli perfume in the air, a fresh waft of it. He knew if he concentrated hard enough, he could probably hear her moving about in her room.   
  
What he actually heard was his stomach rumbling. "Don't you know how to cook?"  
  
Dawn made a face. " Sort of. I mean I can do what the recipe says, but it never turns out well. And when I don't follow the recipe, things get scary."  
  
They were silent for a few minutes.   
  
"The sun'll be down soon. We could go out. Fish tacos." Dawn suggested.  
  
Spike made a face.  
  
"Okay." She laughed. "Wings at the Bronze.   
  
The vamp mulled it over.   
  
Dawn's own stomach was beginning to protest so she decided to sweeten the proposal. "My treat if we can take your bike."  
  
"Fair enough." He went down into the basement to get the key.  
  
There was a knock on the kitchen door. Dawn got up to answer it, hoping it wasn't Xander.  
  
Instead, a young woman she'd never seen before stood there. "Hi. You must be Dawn Summers."   
  
"Yes...Can I help you?"  
  
The stranger smiled. "I'm looking for Willow Rosenburg. Does she live here?"  
  
Dawn nodded.  
  
"Well, I'm Ravesa Kadare. A friend... oh, I guess it wouldn't be right to say I'm a friend of hers since we just met today. But anyway, I wanted to return something she lost."  
  
The stranger held out her hand. In her palm was a small pendant on a thin silver chain. Dawn recognized it immediately. It was the Tree of Life that Tara gave Willow on their first anniversary.  
  
"Oh, thanks!" Dawn said. "It means a lot to her." She smiled and reached out for the necklace.   
  
To the teen's surprise, the stranger closed her hand. "If you don't mind, I'd like to give it back to Willow myself."  
  
Before Dawn could say a word, Ravesa stepped inside the door.  
  
***  
  
From her seat on the couch, Buffy stared at Spike's duster. The coat was thrown across the back of the easy chair the vampire liked to sit in when he watched television. Other signs of his tenancy were scattered around the living room. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on top of the television. The stack of punk CD jewel cases on the mantelpiece. A pack of Camel unfiltereds and his Zippo on the coffee table. No doubt he would leave at least some of things here when he moved back to the crypt tonight. An excellent excuse to drop by.  
  
She'd show him. Have everything packed up before dinner and waiting on the porch. Buffy thought she remembered seeing a large cardboard box in the hall closet. It only took a few seconds to pull it out.  
  
When she opened it, the fragrance that arose that made her shudder.  
  
She'd gotten it for her birthday. A small amount made the bath water smell like heaven and she hoped it would ease some of the soreness from her back. Before the tub could fill, it happened. The door opened and Spike walked in. The last person she needed to see right now. He was agitated, not listening to her. She didn't want to do this. Not right now. She was too tired and in pain. And what was the use anyway. They were over. He wouldn't accept it. Couldn't. Then, his hands were on her...  
  
Buffy stared at the box of containers in front of her. Bath salts, shower gel, foaming bubble bath, even a tube of those little gelatin beads of scented oil. Every scent from the usual rose and lavender to Happy and Opium. Gifts from birthdays and Christmases past. Too bad, she hadn't been lavish in using them before. They were going to waste now sitting in a box in the hall closet.  
  
The week after it happened, she had swept them all off the shelf in her bathroom and into the wastebasket. Then she reconsidered. Just because she didn't ever think she'd take baths again didn't mean that someone would appreciate the collection of bath goods. She retrieved the bottles and cartons from the trash and put them in the box intending to let Dawn and Willow take their pick. Somehow, instead, it had gotten stashed away in the hall closet. And now, she was kneeling on her own living room floor, breathing hard and feeling queasy.  
  
They were on the floor. The tile was cold and hard against her bruised back. His mouth was cold and hard against her throat. She was fighting and trying not to cry. The scent of the bathwater became suffocating as Spike ripped at her bathrobe.  
  
Buffy closed the box. The fragrance grew fainter and she began to feel more in control. Once her heartbeat returned to normal, she stood up and opened the front door. The fresh air quickly dried the tears on her face as she placed the box in the garbage can at the curb. Tomorrow was trash day. Soon both the treacherous box and the vampire it invoked would be gone.  
  
As she walked back inside the house, Buffy wondered if the flashbacks would diminish when Spike left? She hoped so. At the very least, his departure tonight would change a lot of things. No more pigs' blood in the fridge, the slaughterhouse smell sickening her every time she searched for a snack. No more reek of cigarettes and booze at five AM when he stumbled in after a night of Godknowswhat. No more chance meetings in the hallways that left the air singing with tension. No more Slayer sense prickling all the time because he was underfoot.  
  
It had been an unbearably long two weeks. Once Spike began to feel better, he reverted to old form --needling Xander and regaling Dawn with sordid tales from his soulless past.   
Moreover, he balked at answering Giles' questions. The ex-Watcher was fascinated with every detail of Spike's quest and his subsequent attempts to cope with the soul. Giles had taken extensive notes, but he suspected that Spike was leaving out some key information. The blond vampire was clearly evasive about some things. And he flat out refused to reveal anything concerning his whereabouts and deeds on three consecutive days after his return from Africa. For some reason, Buffy had the feeling he hadn't been in Sunnydale.  
  
She had just shut the door behind her when she heard a strange voice in the kitchen. "Dawn? Spike?" She called. "Who's that with you?"  
  
A dark-haired young woman entered the living room, Dawn a half-step behind. "Hi, Buffy." The stranger said.  
  
"Um, hi," Buffy replied automatically. "Do I know you?"  
  
The woman shook her head. "No. I'm sorry. I'm Ravesa Kadare. Nice to meet you. " She held out her hand.  
  
"Same here." Buffy exchanged a quick look with Dawn as she shook the stranger's hand. The teen mouthed the words "She just barged in."  
  
"I guess you're wondering what I'm doing here. I actually want to see your housemate, Willow. She is here, right?"  
  
Behind Ravesa, Dawn was mouthing something else, but Buffy couldn't tell what. "Um, I'll check and see." She turned to go up the stairs, but Ravesa slipped in front of her.   
  
"If you don't mind..." The dark-haired stranger smiled.  
  
"Actually, I do mind." Buffy said icily.  
  
"Of course," Ravesa said smoothly. "I mean, I'm a stranger. And this is your house. I'll just wait here." She smiled again.  
  
Buffy didn't smile back. She'd lived in the Sunnydale long enough to have a strong distrust of strangers, especially pushy ones. The young woman standing in her living room had entered the house without invitation. That and the fact that it was still daylight meant she wasn't a vampire. But that didn't mean that she wasn't a threat.  
  
"Dawn, please get Spike."   
  
"Right here." The bleached vampire leaned in the archway of the living room. "Bint just walked in?"   
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
He gave the stranger a sideways look. "What does she want?"   
  
Ravesa took a step toward the blond man. "Just to..."  
  
"Not talking to you." Spike's voice was low, but held enough menace to stop the young woman in her tracks.  
  
Dawn piped up. "She says she knows Willow. She had a necklace that Tara gave Willow. I recognized it."  
  
"Look, I don't want any trouble." Ravesa said.  
  
Buffy gave the young woman the once-over. The stranger's pushiness was all gone now. In fact, she seemed pretty frightened. Then she looked at Spike. Even from ten feet away, she could see the glints of yellow in his eyes. Buffy figured the vampire was one step away from game face. She hoped it wouldn't come to that, but for the first time since she learned his chip no longer worked, Buffy felt comforted. "Spike?"  
  
He didn't stop staring at Ravessa, just raised a scarred eyebrow.   
  
"I'm going upstairs now."  
  
"Got it." He replied. The vamp produced a small knife from his back jeans pocket and began cleaning his nails without ever taking his eyes off the stranger.  
  
"Dawn." Buffy gestured to her sister.  
  
The teen skirted Ravesa and followed Buffy upstairs. When they reached the top landing, Buffy exhaled hard. "Are you okay, Dawn?"  
  
The younger Summers nodded. "Buffy, I didn't let her in. I swear it. She just pushed past me."  
  
Buffy stroked her sister's hair. "I believe you. She would've barged past me, too."  
  
"Do you think she really knows Willow?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Only one way to find out." She said as she knocked on her best friend's bedroom door.  
  
***   
"So do you live her, too."  
  
Spike didn't respond. At least not verbally. It seemed possible though that his posture became even more threatening.  
  
She smiled weakly, an expression she hoped he would find disarming. But eyes remained cold. It was obvious that he wouldn't let his guard down, not until Buffy told him to.  
  
It didn't matter. She was inside the house now. And already the weaving of her trap had begun. Soon Willow would be forced to choose between her old friends and the newcomer to whom the former witch felt inexplicably drawn. The embrace at the bus stop had done more than allow Rack's sister to undo the chain's clasp. During those five seconds, Willow unknowingly inhaled the aroma of the binding powder the brunette mixed into her skin cream. The initial effects of this spell were a sense of closeness and a slight euphoria. It was somewhat akin to the feeling of falling in love. If subsequent doses were administered --and they would be-Willow should begin to perceive Ravesa as her only confidant. Her brother's killer would turn away all those to whom she might have appealed for aid when the time came to pay.  
  
Meanwhile, she would sit here and pretend to be cowed by the bleached blond watchdog. He was unexpected. It was another male, darkhaired and brawny, that had flashed into her mind with the explosion of pain and flood of memories that assaulted her at the moment of Rack's death. This Spike did not existed in her othermemory. So he had not been directly involved in her twin's demise. Yet, he was clearly part of the circle of Willow's friends. Otherwise, he would not have been in the house to guard her.  
  
So, when the time came, he too would die.  
  
There was a clatter of footsteps on the stairs. A smile curved Ravesa's lips for a microsecond before she turned. "Oh, Willow! I am so glad to see you."  
  
***  
There were a lot of apologies. Most of them came from Ravessa, who seemed truly chagrined at her trespass. The rest came from Willow, who somehow seemed to think that the situation was all her fault.   
  
"Can I tell them?" The redhead asked.   
  
"Why not?" Ravesa said lightly.  
  
Willow wasn't aware that she was gushing as she told Buffy, Dawn, and Spike the story of meeting Ravesa. When she was finished, she gave a weak smile. The tale had failed to lower their hackles even a bit.  
  
"You lived in Sunnydale?' Dawn asked.  
  
"Until I was 18. Like Willow said."  
  
Buffy leaned forward. "So you went to Sunnydale High?"  
  
"Class of '95."  
  
"Oh, Pat Watanabe was in your class. Were you friends?"  
  
"No."  
  
Buffy sighed and leaned back. "Too bad. I've been trying to get in touch with her."  
  
Ravesa laughed. "Pat Watanabe's a guy. Or was. He died senior year. Mad dog attack." She made quotation marks with her fingers. "But you knew that." She laughed again, this time without humor. "Look, I know that you feel like I trespassed. I'm sorry I barged in. I'm usually not pushy at all. I really wanted to personally see that Willow got her necklace back. I know how much it means to her."  
  
Willow fingered the pendant. She still couldn't figure how it had slipped off. The clasp wasn't even broken.  
  
"So why don't we do this," Ravesa continued. "You ask me any Sunnydale trivia question you want. And if I pass, you assume I'm kosher and we start over again."  
  
Dawn and Willow looked at Buffy. Spike kept cleaning his nails.  
  
Ravesa shook her head. "Don't think I don't know why you're suspicious. In this town, strangers usually mean trouble. Take a second to remember where Willow and I met. You don't end up addicted to magick if you buy all the mad dog attack stories."  
  
Buffy had to admit that made some sense, Willow thought. Sure enough, the tension in the room declined somewhat. She gave her best friend a nudge and was rewarded when the blonde extended her hand to Ravesa. Dawn followed her sister's lead. The brunette ex-witch turned next to Spike. He didn't take her hand, but he did put his knife away.  
  
"Don't be offended," Willow said. "He's..."  
  
"English." Buffy interjected. "You know. All reserved and uncomfortable with physical contact."  
  
Willow and Dawn looked at her strangely. Spike seemed amused.  
  
Ravesa nodded. "Yes. I see. Well, I'd better be going." She stood up and again Willow found herself folded into a warm embrace..  
  
Later, Willow couldn't recall what gave her the impulse. Even as the words left her lips it seemed ill-advised. But the urge was irresistible.  
  
"Oh, won't you stay for dinner?"  
  
***  
  
The kitchen was a mess.   
  
Willow had pulled open every drawer and almost emptied the fridge looking for everything. Worse still, it was almost eight and they still hadn't started cooking yet.  
  
"Maybe we should just get delivery." The redhead offered.  
  
"Nonesense, Willow" Ravesa said. "Stirfry doesn't take long once you get everything together. We can speed things up by doing an assembly line. You can peel and devein the shrimp. I'll make the rice and sauce. And let's see." She grabbed the head of bok choy and handed it to Buffy. "Please chop this. Not too fine."  
  
Buffy stared at the vegetable.  
  
"And Spike?"  
  
The vampire looked up from his copy of Rolling Stone.   
  
Ravesa held up a head of garlic. "Do you think you could mince this?"  
  
The look on his face was priceless. Buffy briefly entertained thoughts of waiting to see how Spike would handle Ravesa request. Then she remembered it was Spike they were dealing with and she quickly decided to intervene. "Uh, let's do without the garlic."  
  
Ravesa shrugged. "Sure. It's so good though."  
  
"Um, Spike's allergic." Dawn chimed in.  
  
"Really?" Ravesa took a step toward Spike with the bulb still in hand. "What happens if you eat it?"  
  
The vampire's eyes narrowed.  
  
Buffy quickly held up the bok choy. "Uh, Ravesa could you show me how to chop this." As the dark-haired young woman turned her way, Spike gave the Slayer a grateful look.  
  
"What can I do?" Dawn asked. She was starving and wanted dinner on the table as quickly as possible.  
  
Willow thought for a second. "Can you pour some peanut oil in the wok? And turn it on high."  
  
If Dawn hadn't cut Family and Consumer Science class so much last year, she probably would have known that she didn't need more than a couple tablespoons of oil. Instead, she drained the entire 48 oz bottle. The oil filled the pan to within an inch of the top.  
  
Across the kitchen, Ravesa had given up trying to teach Buffy how to cut the bok choy. Instead, she gave the blonde a box of jasmine rice and the electric steamer. Then she return to Willow's side.  
  
Buffy set the steamer in front of Spike. "Plug that in."  
  
He didn't look up from his magazine. "Reading."  
  
She had never seen him read anything more complex than a street sign before and was sure he was just shirking.  
  
"Come on. Do your share so we can eat."   
  
He turned the page. "I'm not eating that."  
  
She snorted. "Since when are you so picky about what you eat."  
  
"Why do you give a sod?"  
  
"I don't. But it'll look weird if you don't eat."  
  
Spike shrugged and turned another page.   
  
"I knew you weren't reading."  
  
He raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Nobody reads that fast." She said scornfully.  
  
He glanced around and said in a low voice. "Vampires do.  
  
"Do not."  
  
He turned another page in response.  
  
Buffy couldn't say why she was annoyed. "There is no way."  
  
Another page.  
  
"Prove it."  
  
"Wager?"  
  
"No."  
  
Another page.  
  
It was driving her nuts. Buffy had always wanted to speed read. It would have made her pst-slayage high school and college cram sessions worthwhile. "Okay, if you can prove it... I'll help you straighten up the crypt."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Bugger that. You were the one who wrecked it. You and Soldier Boy. You should clean it anyway."  
  
"What do you want then?" She instantly regretted the words as he grinned wolfishly.  
  
"Don't worry, Goldilocks. It's nothing like that. I just want you promise that you won't stop me from seeing the Nibblet."  
  
Buffy stared at him. After all these years, William the Bloody kept surprising her. "Not a fair wager, Spike. I was never going to do that. Pick something else. Something reasonable."  
  
"Get Giles to lay off."  
  
"Lay off?"  
  
"You know, quit asking me about what happened when I was in L.A."  
  
"You were in L.A.?"  
  
It occurred to the vampire that he had revealed more information that the Slayer and ex-Watcher previously knew. "Forget it. Give me the bleedin' machine." He grabbed the steamer and scanned the room for an outlet.  
  
Buffy wasn't sure whether she should be amused or not. "I might accept that bet, if it means that when you lose, you have to tell me what you did in L.A.?"  
  
Spike mulled it over. Even as a mortal, he'd been a quick reader. Then as a fledgling, he'd honed the skill. Otherwise, given the training schedule Angelus set and the multiple chores he was subject to, there wouldn't have been an opportunity to read. He nodded.  
  
"This article is about ripping CDs."  
  
"What?"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "You know, recording music on a compact disc."  
  
"Oh." She'd forgotten he could do that. The mix disc he made was still in her Walkman.  
  
"Good." He sat back down and started reading again.  
  
"What do you mean "good"? You don't think you proved anything." Buffy scoffed.  
  
Spike looked puzzled.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "I don't know how many times you've read that. It has to be something new." She looked around and spied the perfect thing -Dawn's American History textbook. She handed it to him.  
  
He tossed it back on the table. "You're daft if you think I'm going to read that."   
  
"Then you lose."  
  
Meanwhile, back at the stove, the oil in the wok began to boil. Dawn heard the popping sound and took a peep. The teen jumped back as a large bubble of hot oil burst and splattered the stovetop.  
  
"Uh, Willow." She called over one shoulder. "The oil is really hot."  
  
"Good."  
  
"No, I mean really, really hot. Should I turn it down?"  
  
"No." Willow and Ravesa said at the same time. They smiled at each other.   
  
"It should be very hot, Dawn" the brunette ex-witch stated. "That's why Asian food is so healthy. You cook everything at a high temp so barely any of the oil is absorbed."  
  
Willow nodded. "Just put the shrimp in the oil and stir them until they turn opaque."  
  
Dawn chewed her lip. The pan of hot oil looked anything but healthy. In fact, it looked pretty dangerous. She looked back at Willow. The redhead didn't seem concerned at all; in fact, she wiggled her fingers at Dawn and mouthed "Go on." Then Willow turned back to the mortar and pestle of ginger.  
  
Dawn turned to Buffy for help. But her sister and Spike were too busy bickering to notice her. The teen sighed and picked up the platter of raw shrimp. The shellfish looked surprisingly unappetizing, the slimy grayish-white bodies reminded her of the nest of Memdok demon larvae she'd helped destroy last week. Swallowing back her nausea, Dawn approached the stove.  
  
***  
She knew it wasn't time yet, but she couldn't resist the urge. All evening, she'd wondered what product Dawn used to make her hair so shiny and straight. She hoped it was silicone-based. If so, all that pretty hair would blaze so brightly. Too bad, the local hospital lacked a burn unit.   
  
All it took was the thought and the wok slid off the burner. It teetered for a second and then tipped over, splashing oil across the stove. The gas flames immediately ignited the puddle of oil.  
  
***  
  
"Oh!" Dawn sprang back, dropping the shrimp. "Oh, fire!" She was sure she was yelling, but it came out a whisper. If she couldn't get their attention, she had to do something! Dawn grabbed the pot of boiling dumplings and threw the contents on the fire. It spread. This time she found her voice. "Fire! You guys!" She screamed as she refilled the pot.  
  
Willow and Ravesa looked up from the vegetables they were chopping. Buffy and Spike stopped arguing. They all saw flames dance across the front of the stove.  
  
"I'll call the fire department," Ravesa yelled as she ran from the room.  
  
Willow was bewildered. "What happened? Is that the peanut oil?"   
  
Buffy watched her sister run over to the stove carrying a pot. "Dawn, it's a grease fire. Don't use water!"   
  
Too late. The teen threw the contents of the pot on the pool of flaming oil. There was a flash and hiss of steam. "See, it's almost out." Panicked, she ran for a third pot of water.   
  
When the smoke cleared a bit, it was obvious that the fire was far from out. In fact the blazing oil was spreading. Any second it would spill over the front of the stove and could light one of her sister's long gauzy sleeves on fire. "Dawn, no!"  
  
But Dawn flung the water anyway. As Buffy feared, the oil splashed everywhere. There was a blur of movement to her left. Spike was at Dawn's side, pushing her away just before the fire flared up. There was a whoosh and flames enveloped the vampire's upper body as he staggered back.  
  
***  
(Continued in Chapter 3) 


	3. Chapter 3

Unmoved  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us"  
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com  
  
***  
Chapter 3  
  
Willow ran for the extinguisher, but Buffy was faster. She knocked Spike down. As he fell, he hit his head against one of the kitchen chairs. Buffy did not even pause to wince at the impact. She threw herself atop Spike's burning body. The flames licked at her, too, but soon smothered as she rolled both their bodies. As soon as she was sure that the vampire wasn't burning any longer, Buffy stopped turning. She opened her eyes to see her kitchen on fire.  
  
It actually wasn't the whole kitchen, just the stove where the remaining oil threatened to spread to the wall above if Dawn didn't stop throwing water on it. "Dawnie stop!" Buffy yelled. "Willow, use the extinguisher!"  
  
The redhead attacked the flames. Buffy turned her attention back to Spike. He was on top of her, heavy and still. For one crazy second, she thought, oh, God, he's not breathing. And then she remembered. Vampire. Doesn't need to breathe. Still, the not-moving part isn't good. He should be writhing from the pain.  
  
She gently pushed him off and rolled him onto his back. Spike's eyes were closed beneath a light mask of soot, but his face looked undamaged except for a red mark where he had struck his head. His arms and torso were another matter. His t-shirt was charred through in many places. Where the cloth was burned away, she could see nasty-looking blisters already forming. And his bare arms and hands were covered with burns.  
  
Buffy glanced around. Willow was putting out the last of the fire. Dawn appeared frozen. Neither could help her. She was about to try to lift the vampire herself when Ravesa reappeared.   
  
"I called 911. Fire truck is on its way." The woman stopped and stared at Spike. "Oh no! What happened to your friend?" She knelt beside them, staring in horror at the burns.  
  
"He pushed Dawn out of the way and the burning oil splashed on him."  
  
Ravesa jumped to her feet. "I'll call for an ambulance, too."  
  
Buffy grabbed her arm. "No!"  
  
The woman raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Please, just help me get him into the other room." She motioned for Ravesa to grab his feet. Buffy tried to find unburned places on Spike's upper body to grasp him. Finally, she gave up and lifted him as gently as possible. Ravesa did the same. Together, they carried him into the dining room and set him on the table.  
  
Spike lay there like a broken doll. Buffy shook him lightly, "Spike. Wake up, Spike." He remained motionless.  
  
"Buffy, I've got to call the paramedics." Ravesa panted. "He's not breathing!"   
  
"Just give me a minute!" The blonde snapped. Knowing it was a waste of time, Buffy tilted Spike's head back, clamped his nose shut, and positioned her mouth above his. I can't do this, she thought, but Ravesa was watching her. Buffy took a deep breath and exhaled into Spike's lungs.   
  
Nothing. Again, she performed the procedure, hoping he'd regain consciousness enough to fake breathing before Willow's guest completely freaked out. This time, the vampire coughed and his eyes opened. "Buffy?" he croaked.  
  
"Thank God!" Ravesa gasped. "I though you were dead!"  
  
Spike tried to laugh, but his chest hurt. "Oh, balls! I'm burned." He moaned. Spike hated being burned. Burns on preternatural skin healed fast, but they always itched.  
  
"Those are at least second degree." Ravesa jabbered as she leaned over Spike's chest. "Your arms are definitely worse, third degree. And you probably inhaled some smoke, too." She turned to Buffy. "Now will you let me call the paramedics?"  
  
"No paramedics." Spike winced as he sat up. "Is Dawn okay?" His voice was a hoarse whisper.  
  
Tears sprang to Buffy's eyes. "Yes. You saved her, Spike."  
  
The corners of his mouth curved. "Good. Fire out?"  
  
"I think. Willow used the extinguisher. Try to rest, Spike. You took a nasty hit to the head."   
  
"Head's fine. You put me out." The vampire swallowed. "Are you hurt?"  
  
For the first time, Buffy became aware of her own appearance. Her clothing reeked of smoke and was grimy with water and spilled peanut oil from the floor. Scorch marks marred the lightweight jacket she wore. Both it and her hiphuggers were likely a total loss. But from what she could tell, her garments had protected her from the flames. "I'm just fine."  
  
Spike nodded with obvious relief and closed his eyes.   
  
"How do you feel?" Buffy asked softly.   
  
"Like rashers fallen in the grate." He was careful not to laugh. "Second ruined shirt in a fortnight."   
  
"You saved my sister." Buffy said, with a tenderness that surprised even her. "I'll buy you a dozen shirts."  
  
Ravesa was agog. "I can't believe you two are discussing his wardrobe! I'm calling the EMTs." She turned toward the door.  
  
Spike's eyes flashed amber. "I said no."  
  
Buffy grabbed Ravesa's arm. "He hates EMTs. Doctors, too. And nurses!" She babbled. "The whole medical profession in fact."  
  
Ravesa shook her arm free. "Those burns have got to be treated."  
  
"Buffy will patch me up. She's done it before." The bleached blond vamp turned to Buffy. "I hear sirens."  
  
Ravesa frowned. She couldn't hear anything.  
  
"The fire truck." Buffy frowned. "We've got to get you upstairs." She and Ravesa helped Spike into Dawn's bedroom. He groaned as he lay back on the bed. Ravesa begged them both to let her call for an ambulance.   
  
Buffy shook her head "I promise he'll be fine. He's survived worse. I swear it. Please just stay with him while I go downstairs to get my sister. I think she's in shock."  
  
Ravesa nodded with great reluctance. Buffy thanked her and ran downstairs. Firemen were clumping across the lawn. She skidded into the kitchen where an exhausted Willow sat in a chair, the extinguisher still held in one hand. Dawn was seated beside her, crying. Buffy knelt beside her. "Dawn, Dawnie, you gotta listen to me. The firefighters are outside. I gotta let them in. They're going to ask you about the fire. You can not mention Spike."  
  
"Why? Is he dead?" The brunette sobbed.  
  
"No, sweetie. Well, not anymore than he was before. Just burned. And if you tell the firemen, they'll want to see him."  
  
Willow smiled. "Yeah, Dawnie, it wouldn't do for them to try to take his pulse."  
  
The doorbell rang and they all started.   
  
"Can I see him?" The teen asked tearfully.  
  
"Sure. It looks bad, but he will be fine. This time tomorrow, I promise."  
  
Dawn smiled.  
  
The bell rang again. "Fire Department." A man yelled.  
  
"I'm coming." Buffy called out wearily.   
  
***  
  
Spike's eyes were closed. He might have been asleep or simply resting. Either way, he didn't see the dark-haired woman staring at him with a mixture of wonder and revulsion. Not human, she thought. No person could sustain that number of severe burns and lay there without screaming and writhing in pain. So, if he wasn't human, what was he?   
  
She knew he was most likely a vampire -hence the "garlic allergy". She almost laughed aloud. How clever they thought they were. Now if only she could trick them into revealing his true nature.  
  
In truth, Ravesa did not care what sort of creature Spike was. It only mattered, so that she would know how she might best kill him.   
  
***  
"I am so sorry." The teen said for the thirtieth or fortieth time.  
  
Spike didn't know what to say, so he started criticizing Buffy instead. "Do you have to use so much tape? It stings when you pull it off, you know." The older Summers was heavily bandaging the badly burned vampire's arms and chest. As when she had accidentally staked him, Buffy wasn't taking any chances. Spike was beginning to look like a blond mummy.  
  
Dawn stood up and peered outside her bedroom window. The firefighters were departing. She heard Willow and Ravesa calling their thanks. Then the truck drove away and the front door closed. Two sets of footfalls up the stairs. A knock on the door.  
  
"Dawn, could you get that? My hands are full with this gauze."  
  
"No, missy." Spike struggled to sit up. "You're done."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Lay back down. And stop complaining. Or the next piece of tape goes across your mouth." She threatened.  
  
Before Dawn could turn the knob, Willow opened it a crack and poked her head in. "Can we come in?"  
  
Dawn nodded and sat back down on the bed.  
  
Willow and Ravesa entered, the brunette with wide eyes when she saw the gauze-shrouded Spike. "Is you okay?" Willow asked.  
  
"Yes. Except for all the soddin' tape." He smirked at Buffy. "This must be one of your candy striper fantasies."  
  
She slapped a wide piece of tape across the lower half of his face. Spike struggled briefly, then contented himself with glaring.   
  
"What happened, Dawnie?" Willow asked. "How did the fire start?"  
  
The younger Summers' shoulders slumped. "I don't know. The pot seemed to...jump."  
  
"It probably tipped over because it was overfilled. You put way too much oil in it, Dawn." Ravesa chided.  
  
"Wait a minute!" Buffy snapped. "Don't go blaming Dawn."  
  
Ravesa threw up her hands. "I'm sorry, Dawn. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty."  
  
They fell into an awkward silence.  
  
Willow patted Dawn's hand. "It doesn't matter. What's important is that everyone's okay."  
  
"Everyone's not okay." Ravesa scoffed. " I don't think there is a square inch of unburned skin on your friend's hands. And his chest looked pretty bad, too. We've got to get him to a hospital."  
  
Spike's protests were muffled, but Buffy handled it. "No hospital. He's okay."  
  
Ravesa shook her head. "Spike might be okay now. But I've read about burn victims. He's vulnerable to infection. And there could be breathing problems as well. Even if he didn't inhale any smoke, if there are any third-degree burns on his chest the skin will start to constrict. He'll suffocate."  
  
Dawn looked worried. But Buffy shook her head. "That won't happen."  
  
Ravesa threw up her hands. "Why? Because you smeared some Neosporin on him. And wrapped him up in a mile of gauze?"  
  
Spike nodded with satisfaction.  
  
"Look," Ravesa continued. "Is it that he doesn't have insurance? Because Sunnydale General takes indigent patients all the time."  
  
Willow shook her head. "Ravesa..."  
  
"Or is he in some kind of trouble with the law. Are you afraid the police will find out and come after you."  
  
"Ravesa!" Willow said it more forcefully this time.  
  
"Because whatever he's done, it's not worth it. Prison might be bad, but those burns could be a death sentence!"  
  
"He's not a criminal." Dawn said.   
  
"So what it is then?" Ravesa stopped pacing. "He's English, right. Is he here without a green card or something? Are you afraid he'll be deported? I can't believe you're not taking him to the hospital just because he's an illegal alien!"  
  
"No! Because he's a..." Buffy stopped herself just in time.  
  
"A what?" Ravesa stared at Spike.  
  
Willow and Buffy exchanged a look. The redheaded ex-witch looked torn. "Don't tell her, Will." The Slayer warned.  
  
On the bed, Spike vigorously shook his head.  
  
Willow took a deep breath. "You said you didn't believe the mad dog attack stories."  
  
Ravesa nodded.  
  
"You were right not to." Willow paused. "Pat was attacked by a werewolf."  
  
The dark-haired stranger laughed. When no one joined her, she fell silent. "Come on, you expect me to believe that there are werewolves."  
  
"Tell her, Buffy." Willow insisted.   
  
"It's true." Buffy confirmed. "Werewolves exist. There were a couple in Sunnydale, a while back. But they're gone now."   
  
Ravesa sat down heavily on the bed next to Spike. "Werewolves." She intoned in a stunned voice.  
  
Leave it at that, Willow, Buffy silently prayed.  
  
But her best friend was not deterred. "There's more Ravesa." The redhead turned to Buffy. "Tell her the rest."  
  
Buffy remained silent. Distracted, Ravesa had stopped insisting on medical treatment for Spike. In the Slayer's opinion, there was no need to reveal anything else.  
  
"Tell her." Willow repeated. "She's in danger if she doesn't know what to look out for."  
  
"Watch out for everything in Sunnydale, Ravesa." Buffy said coldly. "It's a dangerous place. But, then you should know that if you're really a native." She turned to Willow. "There she's been warned."  
  
"You know that's not what I mean." The redhead protested. "Tell her or I'll tell her myself."  
  
The two friends stared at each other. They hadn't quarreled since Willow's return from Wales. Buffy sighed.   
  
"Ravesa, Pat was killed by a werewolf." Buffy said reluctantly. "But most premature deaths in Sunnydale are usually from vampires."   
  
She looked at Spike when she said the next words. "Like this one."  
  
The dark-haired ex-witch opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.  
  
Dawn spoke up. "But he doesn't do that anymore, Ravesa. You don't have anything to fear from him."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes in frustration. He had to get this tape off his mouth before the girls gave away the whole bleedin' game.  
  
Ravesa raised an eyebrow. "It didn't seem that way earlier when...He looked like he wanted to carve his initials in me with that knife."  
  
That's right. Spike thought. She recognizes the Big Bad when she sees it.  
  
Willow patted Ravesa's arm. "They were just trying to scare you in case you came here with bad intentions."  
  
Ravesa laughed again. This time with a note of hysteria. "Unlike now." She raked a hand through her hair. "If you put on an act before, you'd do the same thing now. Why should I believe you? Cause the whole garlic allergy thing isn't very convincing..." The brunette ex-witch suddenly fell silent.  
  
Spike had managed to sit up again. Even with the tape concealing his fangs, his visage was unmistakably inhuman. Forehead ridges and blazing yellow eyes.   
  
"If you care to look in the mirror behind you," Buffy said calmly. "You'll notice he's the only one of us who doesn't have a reflection."  
  
Ravesa backed away, toward the door.  
  
"Stop it!" Willow shouted at the vampire. Spike rolled his eyes and dropped his game face. But it was too late, Ravesa fumbled for the knob, turned it and fled. Willow raced after her.  
  
From the muffled sounds, it was obvious Spike was laughing despite the pain in his chest. Buffy leaned over and ripped the tape off. "Aargh!" he gasped. "Thanks!" he glared at Buffy.  
  
"No, thank you." Her voice held not a hint of sarcasm.   
  
"Huh?"  
  
"She's glad you got rid of Ravesa." Dawn sat on the edge of the bed. "So am I. She's such a bitch. What does Willow see in her?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
"That's not what's important." Spike said. "What matters is what does she see in Red?"  
  
The three pondered this in silence. Then Buffy spoke. "You're right, Spike."  
  
The blond vampire couldn't believe his ears. He tried to think of something smarmy to say.  
  
The Slayer didn't give him a chance. "Today was Ravesa's first day at Willow's magickal addiction therapy group. Of all of the members of the group to befriend, she latched onto the ex-witch with the most potent powers." Buffy paused. "Then she comes here to the house. How did she know where Willow lives?" Buffy looked at her sister. "What did she say when she came to the door?"  
  
Dawn thought hard. In truth, she couldn't remember. She had a foggy sense of Ravesa introducing herself and showing her the pendant. The next memory was of the stranger brushing past her.   
  
The brunette shook her head. "Sorry, Buffy. I can't remember. I guess the shock from the fire." She said with embarrassment.  
  
"No." Buffy said. "I don't think it's from the fire at all. I think...no, I'm sure that she didn't say how she found out Willow's address. And she was so insistent on returning the necklace herself."  
  
"A ploy to get into the house." Spike said grimly.  
  
Buffy looked at him. "And once she was in the house, she was headed straight for Willow. I'm not sure that I could have stopped her without force. Ravesa only backed off when you entered the room." She told Spike.  
  
The vampire grinned. "Glad to be of service."  
  
Dawn shivered. "If you guys hadn't been home..."  
  
Buffy gazed at her sister. Once the most powerful force in existence, Dawn was now just a slender fifteen-year old girl. Even the smattering of martial arts and weapons training she'd received in the last few months wouldn't help much if   
Dawn was caught alone in the house with an adept of dark magicks. The Slayer's next words were born of the pledge to her dead mother.  
  
"Spike, how long will it take you to heal?"  
  
"A few hours. Maybe a day." He replied. "It'll itch like bloody hell for a week, though." He paused. "Don't worry. I can heal just as well in the crypt."  
  
Buffy pushed down her lingering doubts and spoke. "You're not going anywhere."  
  
Both Spike and Dawn looked at her in bewilderment.  
  
"I need you here, Spike." The words sounded stranger to her own ears. "I don't know what Ravesa is up to, but I don't think that she's just in Sunnydale to attend to a dead relative's affairs."  
  
Spike gave a nod of agreement.  
  
Buffy continued. "And I can't be here all time." She hesistated. "Spike, I want you to stay here, in the house."  
  
Both Dawn and Spike stared wordlessly at Buffy.   
  
"Just for the time being." She emphasized as Dawn began grinning.   
  
"Oh! Thanks, Buffy!" The younger Summers hugged her sister.  
  
The blonde locked eyes with Spike as she stood up. "Your job is to keep my sister and Willow safe. At any cost." The words went unspoken, but they both understood. Kill Ravesa if you have to, Buffy meant.  
  
"Buffy..." he started.  
  
She was already walking away. "Don't let me down." The door clicked shut behind Buffy, leaving him and Dawn alone.  
  
The bleached vampire fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes. He heard Rev. Mayhew's cries of horror as he approached, fangs exposed. The young missionary was his twenty-third victim. How many had there been since? Hundreds certainly. Perhaps thousands. And they all seemed to clamor, begging for mercy, nightly in his dreams. How could his conscience bear one more?  
  
"Spike? Spike?"  
  
He opened his eyes. Dawn was staring at him with concern. Yes, he could bear one more. For Dawn and Willow. But most of all for Buffy.  
  
"I guess you got your wish, Nibblet."  
  
***  
(Continued in Chapter 4) 


	4. Chapter 4

Unmoved  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the sequel to "Look What Love Gave Us" and the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us".  
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com  
  
***  
Chapter 4  
  
The whole house seemed to reek of burned oil. Buffy's stomach roiled from a combination of nausea and hunger as she walked into the kitchen. At first, there was no sign of Willow or Ravesa. Then, the Slayer noticed that the back door was ajar. Walking outside into the dark, she could just discern the outline of two figures seated on the little bench across the yard. The night was moonless and she couldn't make out their faces or forms very well, but she knew it was her best friend and the dark-haired stranger. Clutching each other.  
  
What was going on between Ravesa and Willow? At no point during the evening, had there been any hint of sexual tension between the two young women. But Willow was acting like a teenager with her first crush. And Ravesa's rude and presumptious behavior suggested that she felt confident of her place in Willow's life.   
  
Buffy couldn't imagine Willow in love or lust with Ravesa who was in every way Tara's polar opposite. Still, there's no accounting for taste. Nor, she told herself, can you always explain who you'll turn to when you're lonely and in pain. Buffy was awash with a sudden flood of memories. Losing herself in Spike's skilled and passionate embrace. Cold hands and lips on the most intimate parts of her body. Welcoming every twisted and degrading thing that he did to her and made her do. And then, afterwards, taking a sick pleasure in the wounds left by these acts. The scratches and tender places scraped raw. Her aching jaw and strained muscles. Why had she tolerated --no sought out-- those things? Because sex with Spike distracted her from the waking nightmare that was life on earth after she was torn out of heaven. And because each encounter she survived with jugular intact made her briefly, so damn fleetingly glad that she was alive.  
  
Buffy didn't want to believe that was what Willow was reduced to in her grief for Tara and her guilt over the deaths of Warren and Rack. But, if that was the case, she wasn't going to stand by and watch her best friend destroy herself that way.  
  
She stepped down onto the grass, unsure of what she would say. Then she heard Dawn call out for her. She couldn't quite hear all of it, but the name Spike was intelligible enough. Buffy turned back toward the house in annoyance, then hesitated. She looked back at the entwined silhouettes. Strained to see more clearly. She still couldn't make out the figures very well. But one was obviously consoling the sobbing other.   
  
If Buffy had known that it was Willow crying, she might not have gone into the house. But Dawn's voice was growing more shrill. Demanding that her sister make Spike do something. The Slayer sighed and headed back into the house to see what the peroxided bane of her existence was up to now.  
  
***  
Willow Rosenberg was engaged in that awful gulping and shaking sort of crying that she thought only small children did. She told herself that it was from anger and embarrassment at the cruel way her friends had treated Ravesa. But deep down, a little voice gibbered that she was sobbing from fear. Fear that her new friend was so upset by the evening's events that she would never return to the house. No, worse; that Ravesa might never wanted to see Willow again.  
  
A calmer Willow would have instantly discerned that Ravesa did not seem the least bit traumatized. True, the dark-haired woman did bear the shiny tracks of dried tears on her cheeks. But these were in fact, a glamour created by Rack's sister as she bolted from Dawn's bedroom and down the stairs. She whispered the last words of the spell just as Willow caught up with her.   
  
Ravesa pretended to be too frightened to remain in the house. She allowed the redhead to lead her outside to a bench. Once seated, Ravesa clasped Willow tightly. The embrace delivered the third dose of the binding spell.   
  
Willow inhaled Ravesa's unique scent and was again struck by the oddest sense of intimacy. She had known the brunette ex-witch less than half a day, but felt they were... soulmates. She pulled back to look into Ravesa's eyes.  
  
At that moment, Rack's twin told her brother's killer that she had made a terrible mistake in coming to the house. "No, Ravesa." Willow cried. "I swear, Spike's not a threat. I just wanted you to see why he couldn't go to a doctor."  
  
Ravesa shook her head. "It's not that, Willow."  
  
"What is it then?"  
  
Ravesa took a deep breath. "Your friends wanted to frighten me. And they succeeded." She lied. "Even before you revealed that Spike is a vampire, I could sense that he wanted to do me harm. And not just him. Buffy, too. And even, Dawn. I'm not welcome in that house."  
  
Willow vehemently denied this.   
  
The brunette shook her head. "Willow, you know it's true. The only one who wanted me there tonight was you." she paused. "And I think that in time the tension would have made you want me to leave as well."  
  
"No. Things were awkward, but they'll get better." Willow protested. "They're just slow to accept new people. If they see how much you mean to me, they'll..."  
  
"They'll force you to choose." Ravesa said harshly.  
  
Some part of Willow's mind told her that this whole conversation and her emotional turmoil over it were both very wrong. But the binding spell suppressed it. The redhead dissolved into sobs.  
  
She buried her face into Ravesa's neck as the brunette's arms enfolded her. Breathed in more of the binding spell. Felt like her whole body was longing for Ravesa. Not a sexual longing; though on some level, she felt that if Ravesa had desired her, she would comply. Willingly. Gladly. No, it went beyond sex. It went beyond explaining. Or human understanding.  
  
"Ravesa, don't leave me." Willow whispered.  
  
"Willow, you knew when we met this afternoon that I would be part of your life for only a very short time. I'm risking this stay near the Hellmouth only because of an obligation to the only family member I had left. Once it is discharged, I'll leave again."  
  
"You don't have to." Willow wept.  
  
Ravesa shook her head. "You know I do. Let's just make the best of the time we have."  
  
Willow nodded and dried her tears. She would do that. But she would also find someway to get her friends to accept Ravesa. So that she would stay. So that Willow could be complete again.  
  
***  
Some part of Buffy that held an appreciation for the absurd struggled not to laugh at the sight in front of her. Spike was backed against the wall by her little sister. His soot-stained hair was completely disarranged and he held Dawn's sock monkey up as a shield. "No!" he was shouting. Then he spotted Buffy.  
  
"Slayer!" He yelped with obvious relief. "Get your sister away from me."  
  
Buffy couldn't help laughing then, as the vampire scuttled past Dawn and ran to hide behind her. "What is she trying to put more gauze on you?"  
  
"No," Spike roared. "The Nibblet's gone completely mad. Dawn wants me to feed off her!"  
  
Buffy stopped laughing. She didn't know who to glare at. Spike was a familiar target, though. She grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the closet door hard enough to set the house rattling. A stake appeared in her right hand. "Why shouldn't I spare you the itching phase of those burns?" she asked him.  
  
Dawn was at her side, pleading. " No, Buffy. Spike didn't do anything. I was just trying to get him to eat. Y'know so he would heal faster."  
  
She was incredulous. "But, why would you want him to eat you?"  
  
Dawn blushed. "I brought Spike a glass of pigs' blood. But he said it had turned and he didn't want to drink it. That why I was calling you. I thought you could make him. But you took so long getting up here that he poured it all out into the wastebasket. So, I thought that he might drink...well, some of mine. Not a lot, just enough to tide him over until the morning when one of us could get to the slaughterhouse."  
  
"Oh, Dawnie!" Buffy sighed.  
  
"But Spike refused."  
  
"Yes, I refused!" Spike gasped. "Can you put away the stake now?"  
  
She released him and hid the weapon back in her jeans.   
  
Spike slid to the floor and gave them both reproachful looks. "I don't think I can stay here after all. With the exception of Dru, you Summers' women are the barmiest bints I've had the displeasure to meet. She," he pointed at Dawn, "offers me her neck. 'Cause it's the sane -and I might add, moral thing to do, I refuse. And what do I get for it, she" he indicated Buffy, "wants to dust me!"  
  
His sense of having been wronged was so enormous that Buffy found herself struggling not to laugh again. She took her sister by the arm. "Dawn, you can not invite Spike to feed off you. It's wrong. You should know better."  
  
"But you let him drink your blood when you staked him." The teen protested.  
  
"That was different. He had a serious wound and major blood loss. And I didn't invite him to feed from me." Buffy shuddered at the thought. "Those burns will heal without your blood."  
  
Dawn sighed. "I know. I just wanted to make up it."  
  
"Well, you can take him shopping tomorrow." Buffy said. "He needs some new shirts. I promised him ten for saving your butt."   
  
The teen was delighted. "Really?"   
  
"Sure. That is, if he's decided to stay."  
  
The sisters turned to Spike. The blonde vampire still regarded them with distrust.  
  
"I'm sorry, Spike." Dawn said.  
  
"It's okay, Nibblet. Just don't go tempting me like that." He looked pointedly at Buffy and waited.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Spike."  
  
He still seemed to be waiting.   
  
"I've already asked you to stay. I'm not going to say it again."  
  
The vampire gave a disgusted snort. "I wasn't really going to leave." He stood up. "I just want your word that you won't assume I'm in the wrong the next time someone wants me to bite them."  
  
Buffy looked at him. He was making little effort to conceal the hurt in his eyes. She realized he was right. She heard the words "feed" and "Dawn" in the same sentence and it made her want to reduce him to dust. Even though it was obvious that he was trying hard to fend off her sister. Even though he'd risked himself to save Dawn not more than an hour earlier. And pledged to keep her safe. Even if it meant killing again.  
  
Was it always going to be this way with him? The rush to judgment. The stake ready in her hand. If so, she was no better than Xander in her inability to forgive Spike's past deeds and accept his repentance. She wanted for Dawn's sake and, even for her own, to make a complete peace with the ensouled vampire. But, it seemed impossible. Maybe she couldn't forgive because she couldn't forget. How could she ever forget?  
  
Suddenly, all the strain of the day hit the Slayer very hard. She turned to the door. "I've got to call Xander. See if he can repair this mess."  
  
As Spike watched Buffy walk away, he wondered if he had really expected her to promise to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was more likely to survive sunrise at the beach than to ever regain her trust.   
  
***  
He wanted to kiss her so badly. The whole evening all he could think about were her lips. She was wearing this ruby red lipstick that made her mouth look so ripe and inviting. The caveman part of his brain said a girl didn't wear that shade if she wasn't asking to be kissed. His common sense and recent experience wasn't quite sure.  
  
Would it sound foolish to ask? I'd like to kiss you, Xander murmured.   
  
Across the room, Anya paused in hanging up their jackets. "Did you say something?"  
  
He lost his courage. "No."  
  
She smiled and shut the closet door. "Do you want a drink? I have some of that expensive beer that you like."  
  
"No, thank you. Um, Anya, please come here." He patted the couch cushion next to him.  
  
She sat down and looked at him expectantly.  
  
Xander wasn't sure where to start. "We've been seeing a lot of each other recently, right."  
  
"We've had seven official dates in two weeks. That's not counting the four times that we had coffee when you stopped by the Magic Box. Or taking into account stopping for ice cream on the way home from Buffy's."  
  
Xander smiled. Trust Anya to try to quantify things. "Well, what I meant is that we've enjoyed each other's company rather frequently. At least I've enjoyed it and I think you have too."  
  
Anya nodded. "The movie tonight was very enjoyable. Despite my chosen vocation, I found the combination of romance and comedy quite appealing."  
  
"That wasn't what I meant, Anya"  
  
She looked puzzled.  
  
"I mean we enjoy being together. You and me. No matter what we're doing." He paused. "Don't you feel that way, too?"  
  
The smile on her luscious mouth was all the answer he needed.  
  
"And I was thinking," he continued. "Um hoping that..."  
  
Anya waited expectantly as Xander waited for the right words.  
  
He opened his mouth and his cell phone rang. "Sorry, I'll get rid of whoever it is."  
  
It was Buffy. Anya wasn't surprised. Who else would call Xander on his cell phone at nearly eleven o'clock at night. No doubt, the Slayer had already left a dozen messages on Xander's home answering machine.  
  
From the side of the conversation she could hear, there was a fire at the Summers' house. Or there had been. She heard Xander sigh with relief that no one was hurt but Spike. Of course, he would come over to look at the damage. He hung up and stood up awkwardly. "Anya..."  
  
She stood up, too.  
  
"There was a fire at Buffy's..."  
  
And now, you're running over there, she thought bitterly. "I understand. You have to go."  
  
Xander looked into her eyes. A thousand years old and she couldn't conceal her disappointment anymore than a four year old receiving a pair of socks for his birthday. It was clear, if he left now, he should plan on never coming back.   
  
"No. Not tonight at least." He pulled her toward him and kissed those irresistible lips. Then he picked her up, the kind of suave sweeping off the feet that movie heroes did with ease, but he'd always screwed up before. This time, though, he didn't bump Anya's head against the doorframe as he carried her into the bedroom.   
  
When he set her down and closed the door, he noticed that she was trembling. Xander was shaking, too. Fear mixed with desire.   
  
It was not just the odd notion of making love to a demon. At first, Xander wasn't sure he could drive the images of Anya and Spike's sexual encounter from his mind. But Anya felt so right in his arms. So right, that it hurt him physically when she moved away to loosen the tie that held her wrap dress together.  
  
They shed their clothing slowly, watching each other. When Anya slipped out of the last garment, dove gray tap pants and stood before him, Xander felt like he was seeing her for the first time. Gone was the almost too slim body of the teenager Anyanka had become when Giles destroyed her amulet. Now her breasts were fuller and her hips sweetly curved. Womanhood had come to Anya.  
  
"You're so beautiful, Baby." She blushed under the heat of his stare, but her own admiration was no less ardent.   
  
Though Xander went to work in a suit and tie as often overalls these days, he'd worked hard to melt away the extra pounds from pre-wedding piggishness. Now, his body was hard again. All lean muscles on a swimmer's broad shouldered and slim-waisted frame.   
  
Anya closed the short distance between their bodies and offered her mouth to him again. When he kissed her, her arms went around his neck. He pulled her even closer, amazed by the perfection of the skin under his rough workman's hands. His hands traced the delicate bones of her shoulderblades and spine as she stood on tiptoe and moved her mouth to his neck.  
  
As he caressed her, Xander found the words to say what was in his heart. He wanted to make love to her, but that wasn't why he stayed. He was here now with her because it was the only place that was really right for him to be. It was a terrible mistake to leave her at the altar. A worse one to lash out at her because she turned in her pain to D'Hoffryn, accepting her old master's offer of returning to demonhood. And most of all, he apologized for his reaction to her liaison with Spike. Unforgivable, he murmured into her hair. But he hoped she would find a way to forgive him, but he was nothing without her.   
  
She was crying happily now as he kissed her. She made her own apologies. Told him how empty her Xander-less life was. She found no pleasure to vengeance anymore, perhaps because she finally understood all that could go wrong no matter how much you loved the other person. Even tallying the day's sales at the Magic Box had lost allure.  
  
Xander was careful not to laugh at this last comment. He understood. Anya wanted this reconciliation as badly as he did. "I can't make up for everything." He said hoarsely. "But I want to do whatever it takes to rebuild our dream."  
  
"You can start by making love to me." Anya whispered through her tears.  
  
He was more than glad to comply.  
  
Anya allowed Xander to lift her once more and place her on the bed. Beneath her, the satin coverlet was chilly against her bare skin and she shivered. But his mouth upon her nipple soon warmed her. As he suckled, her hands explored the planes and angles of Xander's body. His hands too were busy, kneading her bottom and teasing her inner thighs. She parted her legs and he settled between them, his hardening cock brushing against her.   
  
"Don't make me wait," She cried. "We have all night."  
  
"Tomorrow morning, too." Xander laughed as he entered her.  
  
It was like being enveloped in heated, liquid silk. He held still for a moment to better relish the sensation of their joined bodies. And then, as Anya bent her head and wickedly licked the underside of his chin, Xander began to move above her with infinite slowness.   
  
The languid strokes made the pleasure building inside Anya mount unbearably. She clasped her long legs around the small of Xander's back to better thrust against him. He moaned into her ear as she uncontrollably tightened the inner muscles of her sex. "Oh. Oh, my love."  
  
They rested for a moment, her heart thudding pleasantly against his chest. Then she pushed him over and straddled him. "Anya," Xander breathed as she slipped onto him. "This time I set the pace." She laughed.  
  
It was a hard and fast rhythm. One that brought her to orgasm a second time and left him gasping even before his own crest hit. He cried out her name as he exploded inside her.  
  
And, for once, in one small corner of Sunnydale, everything was as it should be.  
  
***  
Buffy lay on her bed fully dressed. She was aware that she was ruining the coverlet, but felt too tired to remove her grimy clothes. At present, the most she had energy for was staring at the ceiling. And even that was beginning to exhaust her.  
  
Lately, she felt like her life was moving in a dreary circle of work, Slaying, and if she was lucky a few hours of sleep. Only Giles' occasional creativity with training routines broke the monotonous pattern. And now that he was away on a buying trip for the Magic Box, she lacked even that.  
  
It wasn't even that Buffy craved excitement. She got enough of that with the various denizens of the Hellmouth. Rather, she wanted to feel that her life had some meaning beyond her destiny as the chosen one.  
  
Only two short years ago, she thought things could hardly get better. Her college grades weren't stellar, but she had successfully earned enough credits to gain sophomore status. And, though her heart still ached for Angel, she had Riley. Despite the twin thorns in her side of her bratty kid sister and chip-neutered vampire, she felt satisfied. She was even beginning to share her mom's dream of something, someday resembling a normal life. A real career. Maybe marriage and children.  
  
How quickly it all fell apart. Riley's betrayal, ultimatum, and departure. Dropping out of school because of Joyce's illness and eventually death.   
  
By the time of the final battle with Glory, Buffy had nothing left to lose, except Dawn.  
  
It was almost a relief to die. To be done with all the endless fighting and worrying. Even without heaven, even if all that her freed soul had found was an eternity of nothingness, Buffy would have accepted it.  
  
But, she was dragged back into living. And like so many things humans did with reluctance, she'd screwed it up. Ignoring both Willow's addiction to magick and Dawn's growing delinquency. Not to mention the whole disastrous relationship with Spike.   
  
Buffy had hoped that Giles' return to Sunnydale would provide some direction to her life. The former Watcher's mentoring did return a much-needed edge to her fighting skills. But she was still emotionally adrift.  
  
It was at times like this that Buffy missed her mother the most. And not just for the pep talk. How different life would be right now if she had lived. Joyce's calm, loving ways had kept the Summers' home a refuge from much of the chaos of living in Sunnydale. Buffy was trying her hardest to replicate that, but she was falling miserably short. The fire tonight was proof of that. Why hadn't she taught Dawn not to throw water on a grease fire? Or not to wear long, dangly sleeves near the stove? Thank God for Spike, she thought.  
  
As she remembered the blond vampire's act of heroism, Buffy felt her inner conflict increase. That Spike was even at dinner tonight was another sign of her inability to get her life together. She should have removed the charges from his crypt two weeks ago. Instead, she let him linger on in the house.   
  
The Slayer shook her head. If he hadn't been there tonight, Dawn would be lying in a hospital bed right now, crisped and charred from the flaming oil. Her exhausted mind replayed the effort to put his blazing body out. She saw his head strike the chair as she knocked him down. Felt the flames try to claim her as well as she rolled both their bodies on the kitchen floor. Saw the horrible burns on his hands and chest. Smelled tobacco and whiskey as she bent over him to breathe unneeded air into his lifeless lungs.  
  
Buffy Summer's last thought as she fell asleep: Spike's mouth had tasted like smoke and honey.  
  
***  
(Continued in Chapter 5) 


	5. Chapter 5

Unmoved  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the sequel to "Look What Love Gave Us" and the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us".  
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com   
  
***  
Chapter 5  
  
Things were going even better than she had planned, Rack's sister thought as she ground the herbs for more binding powder. She wasn't going to have to work very hard to strain ties between her twin's killer and the others. Willow's friends were doing most of the work for her! Ravesa hadn't lied to the red-headed ex-witch when she said that her friends would force her to choose. By rejecting the person Willow saw as her soulmate, Buffy and the others were loosening their own hold on their friend.   
  
Ravesa smiled. If only they would turn on each other as well.  
  
She stopped. Why not? And, she suspected that she wouldn't even need magicks to accomplish it.   
  
Under the effects of the binding spell, Willow often fell into a hypnotic state. Part of this condition was that Willow's inhibitions were lowered. Rack's killer wasn't even aware that she had aired much of the group's dirty laundry. Spike was not the only member with a dark secret.  
  
All Ravesa needed now was the right opportunity.  
  
***  
"I have waited so long for this." Xander said to himself as he contemplated the piece of wood in his hand. His arm fairly ached with the desire to wipe the monstrosity before him from the face of the earth.  
  
"Are you sure this is okay with Buffy?" Anya asked from the doorway.   
  
"I told her I'd do it." He said as he tested his grip.  
  
Anya looked skeptical. "She might be annoyed to come home and find dust all over the place."  
  
"Nah. I'll clean it all up. Besides, she'll be relieved it's done and over with." He shook his head in disbelief. "Two weeks!"  
  
Xander was in his element as he swung the sledgehammer into the wall. The sheetrock shattered in a shower of chips and dust particles. Again and again, he battered the smoke-stained kitchen wall. Soon, Xander could look straight through into the dining room.   
  
The basement door opened and Spike stepped out, only to find his path barred by a beam of sunlight. "Can't a fellow sleep around here?" he complained.  
  
Xander's grip tightened on the handle of the sledgehammer at the sound of the vampire's voice. Every reminder of the bloodsucker's continued presence in the Summers' home raised his blood pressure. Actual face-to-face contact usually had him seeing red. He was struggling to abide by the Buffy-brokered truce of sorts with Spike. "Just until Ravesa leaves town." She pleaded the morning after the fire. Two weeks later, the dark-haired stranger remained in Sunnydale. And Spike had now passed a month under Buffy's roof.  
  
Xander turned around slowly. "Sorry." He managed to grit out. "Gotta work on the kitchen during the day this weekend."   
  
Spike was taken aback by the apology. "Er, good." He paused. "Buffy'll be happy. Do you need help with the hammering and whatnot?"  
  
Why of course. Xander thought wickedly. Why don't you step into the sunny kitchen and give me a hand. "No, Spike."  
  
"Well, carry on then." The vampire said. Then he closed the basement door and thumped back down the stairs.  
  
"That exchange was almost...civil." Anya mused.   
  
"Yeah, well..." Xander wasn't sure what to say. He was saved by the appearance of Willow at the door. "Hey, Will."  
  
"Hey, yourself. Hey, Anya." The redhead replied. "Whatcha doin'?"  
  
"He's demolishing the kitchen." Anya said.  
  
"I'm trying to repair the damage from the fire." Xander corrected his erstwhile fiancée. "You guys can't use the kitchen while it's like this. Besides, I thought it would be a good opportunity to renovate a bit. See," he motioned. "this whole wall has to come down. So, I figured I'd move it back some. In a kitchen this size, even a foot extra is a lot more space." He rubbed his hand together.  
  
"You almost sound like you're glad the fire happened." Willow teased.  
  
"Yes," Anya said brightly. "Xander was very excited about the damage."  
  
The construction worker closed his eyes. A lot of things had changed with Anya's return to demonhood -her habit of saying inappropriate things wasn't one of them. "Not excited about the damage, honey. Just the chance to improve the kitchen."  
  
"Honey?" Willow echoed excitedly. "Does that mean what I think?"  
  
Xander and Anya looked at each other. Then, Anya held out her right hand. The finger that had been bare for months was now adorned by a slim silver ring band carved with the figure-eight symbol for eternity. "It's a promise ring." She said proudly.  
  
Xander's voice was slightly hoarse as he spoke. "We're hoping to replace it with something more substantial eventually."  
  
"You guys are finally really back together!" The redhead grinned. "When did this happen? I mean, I knew you were seeing each other again, but..."  
  
"I guess it's been a couple weeks now." Xander didn't explain that the turning point took place the night of the fire.   
  
"I am so excited for you guys." Willow clapped her hands. "This calls for a celebration."  
***  
  
And so they found themselves hours later seated at the Bronze. Everyone held aloft a glass of champagne except for Dawn who was underage. She tried not to look too disappointed with her lemon-lime soda.  
  
"To Xander and Anya" Buffy proposed. "To Xander and Anya." The others chorused. They all sipped at their drinks.   
  
"My congratulations." They all looked up and stopped laughing.   
  
"Ravesa." Buffy said.  
  
She didn't look at all like what Xander anticipated. From Buffy and Dawn's description of an overbearing drama queen, he expected a virago. Instead, a gorgeous, poised woman stood before them.  
  
The dark-haired ex-witch slid in a chair next to Willow. "Thanks for inviting me, Willow." She said softly.  
  
Willow blushed. "You're welcome. Ravesa and I already had plans so I thought she might join us. I hope you don't mind, you guys."   
  
"Well, actually..." Dawn started. "Ouch!" At first, she thought it was Willow who pinched her. Then she caught her sister's eye.   
  
"I love champagne." Ravesa said.  
  
"Oh, I'll go get another glass. Be right back." Willow said. She walked off with obvious reluctance.  
  
The four friends who remained at the table gazed after her, all wishing that they were the ones on the errand.  
  
Ravesa extended a hand to Xander. "Pleased to finally meet you, Alexander." She said in honeyed tones. "I'm Ravesa Kadare." As they shook, she looked straight into his eyes and one of her manicured nails faintly scratched his palm. A little zing shot through Xander and he pulled his hand back. Ravesa smiled at him and he began to feel very warm.  
  
She leaned across the table to shake hands with Anya next. "So you're the lucky girl. Alma isn't it?"  
  
"Anya." Willow, Buffy, and Dawn corrected all at once. The vengeance demon didn't say anything. She was too busy wondering why Xander was suddenly nervous.  
  
Ravesa looked embarrassed. "Sorry, Anya. What a beautiful name!" She leaned over again as she reached out to finger the pendant the other young woman wore around her neck. Anya jerked back.  
  
The brunette newcomer laughed. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that's such a beautiful and unusual piece of jewelry. I wish I knew where you got it."  
  
Anya's eyes widened at the word "wish". "It's an heirloom."   
  
"Really?" Ravesa lifted an eyebrow. "I've worked as an antique jewelry appraiser for the last three years and I think I'm pretty well acquainted with most styles. Art Nouveau. Victorian. Directoire. Edwardian. Art Deco. Edwardian. Art Retro." She paused. "I've never seen anything like this."  
  
"It was custom-designed for your great-great-grandmother, wasn't it?" Buffy interjected. Anya shot her a look of gratitude and nodded. Then she tucked her amulet into the bodice of her dress.  
  
Dawn looked at Xander. He was staring at Ravesa. If Dawn didn't know better, she would think that Xander wasn't just staring, but (ew!) checking her out. Willow's new friend was dressed provocatively. She wore a cobalt blue silk top held up by the thinnest of spaghetti straps. No bra, Dawn suspected. Tiny black leather miniskirt. Strappy heels that made her legs seem a mile long.  
  
The teen looked back at her friend. Xander was definitely looking at Ravesa's chest. Dawn's eyes narrowed.  
  
Ravesa turned to Buffy. "Where's your boyfriend tonight?"   
  
The blonde looked puzzled. "Boyfriend?"  
  
"You know. Undead Englishman. Peroxide blond. " Ravesa laughed.  
  
Buffy sputtered. "Spike is not my boyfriend."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry." Ravesa drawled. "You have to admit it's an easy mistake though. He does live with you. And with all the bickering you two did! Well...it's hard to ignore the sparks."  
  
"Sparks?" Xander said in confusion.  
  
"Sure. There's real chemistry between those two. I'm surprised they haven't hooked up."  
  
For once, even Anya had the tact to be silent.  
  
"Come on. Are you telling me that you never been attracted to Spike?" Ravesa asked Buffy. "Bad boys don't do it for you? Or is it the whole vampire thing?"  
  
The Slayer stood up. "I'm going to see what's taking Willow so long." She said in a strangled voice.  
  
Ravesa seemed unperturbed by the blonde's sudden departure. She swiveled toward Anya. "Spike is sexy, isn't he? I mean would you let the allergy to sunshine stop you?" She paused. "That is, if you weren't already in love with this wonderful guy."   
  
Anya turned stricken eyes toward Xander. Saw that he wasn't even listening. Instead, he was looking across the Bronze to the bar where Buffy stood talking to Willow. He seemed to be mumbling "Sparks?" over and over again.  
  
"I have to go powder my nose." Anya choked out. She hurried away.  
  
Dawn wanted to follow her, but she was afraid to leave Xander alone with Ravesa. Please hurry back, Buffy, she thought.  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile, the older Summers stood at the bar trying to convince Willow not to worry about the extra champagne glass. "But Ravesa wants some."  
  
"Will, look at me!" Buffy snapped. "After you left, your...friend said some things at the table. Things that made me think that you've been talking too much."  
  
"Huh?" Willow was confused.  
  
"Ravesa was fascinated by Anya's amulet. She said that she had never seen anything like it before. And she said that she 'wished' she knew where it came from."  
  
Willow shrugged. "What's strange about that? The amulet is unusual. You don't have to think it's magickal to be interested in it."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "It's not just that. She said Spike and I were a couple. That there were sparks!"  
  
"Anyone could make that mistake, Buffy." The redhead smiled mischievously. "And Buffy, I know you don't want to hear this, but...well, despite everything, there are sparks."  
  
The Slayer didn't know what to say. Just then, Anya ran up to the bar. The vengeance demon grabbed Willow's arm and twisted it. "What did you tell her, Witch?" she snarled.   
  
Willow cried out in pain. Buffy pulled the two girls apart. "Anya, what's this about?"  
  
A tear ran down Anya's face. "How could you? I thought you were happy for us, Willow. Did you set this whole thing up just to humiliate me?" She tried to reach past Buffy to claw at the redhead. Anya was so furious that even with her Slayer strength, the blonde was struggling to keep her away from Willow.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about..." the ex-witch said.  
  
"Stop lying!" Anya cried. "You told her. You told her about me and Spike."  
  
With those words, Buffy felt sick. It wasn't just her growing unease about Ravesa's knowledge of the Scooby gang's most intimate secrets. Anya's mention of the one-night stand with Spike reopened an old wound. One that she tried very hard to deny even existed.   
  
The pain brought back the memory: Spike and Anya on the table at the Magic Box. Making love. No, it was clear that there was no love in it. They were screwing. Shagging, Spike called it. And the first thought that popped into her head as she stared at the camera -Is this the first time? Or had they been banging each other ever since she ended her own physical relationship with the vampire? It was then that the pain hit her. He said he loved her. If so, why was he having sex with Anya?  
  
It was a question that months later still troubled her.  
  
Buffy pushed the pain down and looked at Willow.  
  
The redhead was shaking her head vehemently. "No. I didn't say anything. I swear it." She looked at her friends. And realized that they didn't believe her. "You guys?" she pleaded. "Why would I do that?"  
  
Buffy spoke slowly. "I don't know how or why Ravesa know these things, Willow. But the only way she could know them is through you."  
  
"No, Buffy." She wrung her hands. "Are you sure, Anya? Anya?"  
  
The vengeance demon was staring across the room. At Ravesa. Dancing with Xander.  
  
***  
  
The music was especially good tonight. Or at least it seemed that way, because he had never felt this comfortable on the dance floor before. Maybe it was his partner. Willow's friend was a great dancer. She moved her body in perfect time with the pounding rhythm. She moved her body against his in a way that made him feel graceful and powerful at the same time.   
  
The Bronze was crowded, but there was a little space around them as if people had drawn away so they could watch Ravesa dance. Not just Ravesa, but the two of them. How stupid he was to have resisted this.  
  
Minutes earlier, when the song started, Ravesa grabbed his hand and started pulling him away from the table. Xander had protested at first. But then, he felt a strange euphoria as the dark-haired girl threw her arms around his neck and began to sway. She was tall. Almost as tall as him, something Xander was unused to in young women. It brought their faces close together and he could smell something incredibly alluring -a spicy perfume maybe. Just as his hands came up to grasp her waist, Ravesa spun away with a giggle and danced out into the middle of the crowd. He hesitated. Then, headed in pursuit of that spot of blue silk disappearing in the heaving throng of bodies.  
  
After all, what could one little dance hurt.  
  
Alexander Harris was about to find out that it could hurt a lot. Especially when your best friend was grinding her two inch-heel in your instep as she pulled your dance partner away. He hopped on the uninjured foot, but suddenly that one was in pain, too. Wait a minute. He knew that shoe. He followed the line of sight from the chocolate lizard pump right up to his girlfriend's really pissed off eyes.  
  
"Hey, An."  
  
She slapped him and burst into tears.   
  
Xander stared at her in shock. "What was that for? I was just..."  
  
"About to mate with that hussy right here on the dance floor?" she hissed.  
  
Ravesa twisted away from Buffy. "We were just dancing." None of the girls except Willow looked at her.  
  
Xander nodded. "Just dancing."  
  
Dawn appeared at Anya's side. The teen held a look of disgust on her face. "Xander, she was rubbing against you. You were rubbing back."  
  
He started to deny it, but suddenly he wasn't sure. Maybe there had been rubbing. It was crowded on the dance floor. Their bodies had touched. No big deal, he started to say. Then, he realized that he was hard. Very hard.  
  
"Oh, God."  
  
Anya turned and fled.  
  
Xander just stood there for a minute, trying to pull down his shirt to hide a now very painful erection. Buffy hit him. "Go after her!"  
  
His mouth worked for a moment. But he didn't know what to say, so he just took off.  
  
Ravesa wanted to laugh out loud. Instead, she contented herself with a smirk as she sauntered back to the table. A very bewildered Willow followed.  
  
Dawn started after them, but her sister pulled her back. "You're going home, Dawn."  
  
"But I want to see you kick her ass!" The teen protested.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I don't think there will be any ass-kicking. But I do need to straighten out a few things with Willow and her new 'friend'." The Slayer dug in her purse and her cell phone. She handed it to Dawn. "Call Spike. He and Clem have poker plans, but they won't have left yet. Tell Spike to pick you up here and take you straight home. He's not going out tonight."  
  
"But I don't need a babysitter." Dawn complained.  
  
Buffy sighed. " I know you don't. But you do need protection. Any that's why I want you to take this." She pulled a stake from her purse.  
  
Dawn frowned. "Why do I need that? I'll be safe if I'm home with Spike."  
  
Buffy didn't blink or say a word as she pressed the polished length of wood into her sister's hand.  
  
"Oh!" The younger Summers gasped. "No, Buffy. No!" She let the stake drop.  
  
The Slayer caught it before it could fall to the floor. "Listen to me, Dawnie. I think Ravesa can make people do things. I believe that she made Willow tell her our secrets. I think she made Xander dance with her that way. I don't know if that power is limited to humans."  
  
"You think she'll make Spike attack me." Dawn shook her head. "No, he would never do that!"  
  
Her sister closed her eyes. "I don't want to believe that he would, honey. But, I need you to take this anyway."  
  
With obvious reluctance, Dawn accepted the stake. She tucked it into the waist of her jeans and blinked back tears.  
  
"That's my girl." Buffy whispered as she hugged the teen.   
  
She watched Dawn dialing the phone as she walked away.  
  
Then the Slayer squared her shoulders. No more putting this off.  
  
***  
Willow sat at the table alone. Miserably, she watched the last of the bubbles vanish from the cheap champagne. The red-headed ex-witch wasn't sure what had just happened.   
  
When she followed her friend back to the table, Wilow had a vague idea that Anya, Buffy, and Dawn believed that Xander and Ravesa were fooling around. But that was ridiculous. Xander was madly in love with Anya. He just gave her a promise ring, hinted that he wanted to slip that diamond back on her finger. Anya was just being insecure. She said as much to Ravesa who shrugged.  
  
Anya is just freaking out that Xander might change his mind again. Willow told herself. That would explain her claim that Ravesa knew about the fling with Spike.  
  
Still, she couldn't quite explain Xander's reaction when they approached him and Ravesa. He acted like a boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar -a situation that she had actually witnessed him in more than one. Willow frowned. Why did Xander look guilty if they were just dancing?  
  
They weren't just dancing, she realized. Xander was coming on to Ravesa. He had rubbed against her. Maybe he was doing it to pay her back for Spike.  
  
So why didn't Ravesa stop him?, the farthest corners of Willow's mind yammered. She decided to ask. When she turned around, her friend stood up.  
  
"I'm going to freshen my makeup," her friend said.   
  
"Wait," Willow pleaded. "I want to ask you something."  
  
"I'll be right back, Silly." Ravesa laughed.  
  
When Willow protested, Ravesa bent and gave her a quick hug to deliver a soothing dose of the binding spell.  
  
The redhead suddenly felt dizzy for a second. When she finally steadied herself, Ravesa was gone and Buffy stood in her place.  
  
"Hey, Buff..."  
  
"Where's Ravesa, Willow?"  
  
"Bathroom, I think."  
  
Buffy looked relieved. "Willow, I want you to go home."  
  
"Why?"  
  
The blonde hesistated. "I think Ravesa is using witchcraft on us. All of us, but especially you."  
  
Willow stared at her best friend. "That's not funny."   
  
"I didn't say it to be funny." Buffy said grimly.  
  
"You know she's in recovery."   
  
"Perhaps she was. But, then maybe when this relative of hers died the grief drove her over the edge."  
  
"Like me when Tara died?" Willow asked bitterly. "Not everyone is as weak as I was."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "That's not what I meant, Will. The situation with Tara was different." She paused, ran her fingers though her hair nervously. "Look, this isn't about you. This has to do with Ravesa..."  
  
"If it has to do with Ravesa, it is about me." Willow stood up. "I finally find someone who understands what I'm going through and you make these terrible accusations about her. How could you, Buffy?"  
  
"How could you tell her about me and Spike?" Buffy exploded. "A stranger. Someone who just walked into our lives two weeks ago and you tell her about all the horrible things that happened last year."  
  
"But I didn't tell her!" Willow insisted.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "She knows. It wasn't just the things she said. It was the way she said them. Willow, she took pleasure in watching us squirm."  
  
"I don't believe it."   
  
"What?" The blonde said in a shocked voice.  
  
"I. Don't. Believe. You." Willow carefully enunciated. "Maybe, somehow she guess those things and wasn't discreet. But I can't believe that she did it to hurt you. What could she possible gain from doing that."  
  
"You. "I think Ravesa wants to break up our friendships. And when you're all alone, she have you to herself."  
  
The two girls stared at each other. Then Willow started laughing. "It's not like that between Ravesa and me."  
  
"I know that, Will. And that's not what I meant." Buffy paused. "Maybe she's looking for another powerful witch."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Buffy thought for a second. "What do you know about this relative who died?"  
  
Willow started to speak and then she realized that she didn't know anything. Not a name, the sex, or the circumstances. She closed her mouth and gave Buffy an embarrassed look.  
  
Buffy nodded. "I thought so." She laid a hand on Willow's. "What if Ravesa can't accept that this person died? Maybe she wants to raise him or her. It would take a pretty powerful witch to do that. You're the most powerful witch she knows."  
  
"But, I'm not practicing anymore." Willow protested. "And, even if I was, I wouldn't help her do that."   
  
"I know that, Will. But Ravesa doesn't. She doesn't know you the way we do."  
  
Willow sighed. "I've got to tell her." She started toward the bathroom.  
  
Buffy stopped her. "She may be angry. Let me go with you"  
  
"No." The redhead smiled wryly. "I feel like this is something I have to do on my own. You...you go see if you can find Xander and Anya. Give them my apologies."  
  
Buffy smiled back. "Actually, I think I'll go on patrol. Maybe stop by Spike's crypt and remove those explosives finally."  
  
"Be careful." Willow called.  
  
The same to you, thought the Slayer.  
  
***  
(Continued in Chapter 6) 


	6. Chapter 6

Unmoved  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the sequel to "Look What Love Gave Us" and the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us".  
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com   
  
***  
Chapter 6  
  
Willow entered the ladies' restroom.   
  
Ravesa was applying a fresh coat of lipstick. She leaned back from the mirror and smiled at the redhead's reflection. "Sorry I took so long."  
  
"No problem." Willow said. "Um, there's something I need to talk to you about." She turned bright red.  
  
Ravesa turned around. "What's the matter?"   
  
"You might want to sit down."  
  
The brunette shook her head. "I don't want to sit down, Willow. I want you to tell me what's going on?" she demanded.  
  
Willow hoped that she wasn't about to destroy her relationship with Ravesa. She took a deep breath. "Are you doing magick?"  
  
Rack's twin couldn't stop the smile. So it begins, she thought. "Took you a really long time to figure it out."  
  
"Oh!" Willow exclaimed.  
  
"I put a little spell on your friend, Xander." She laughed. "It didn't take much for him to make a fool of himself over me. Like a dog in rut."  
  
"Why?" Willow cried in confusion.  
  
"Wait, that's not all." Ravesa said cruelly. "For you, there was a binding spell. Made us soulmates, didn't it?" she clasped her hands together and fluttered her eyelashes mockingly.  
  
"No!" Willow.   
  
"Yes. And don't you want to know why?"   
  
"Because of your relative that died," Willow blurted.  
  
Ravesa was taken aback. "What did you say?"  
  
"You came back to Sunnydale because you lost someone you love." She looked sympathetically at the brunette and continued. "You're hurting. I understand that."  
  
"You understand?" Ravesa asked incredulously. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? Do you think that I came back to this godforsaken place that makes my skin crawl so that I could hear you say that you understand?"  
  
"Of course not, Ravesa. I just...I just wanted you to know that I've had my own loss. And what you're trying to do won't work."  
  
The dark-haired witch scoffed. "Won't work? Oh, it'll work."  
  
Willow shook her head. "No, I tried. When Tara died, I used all my powers. But it wasn't meant to happen..."  
  
"But you did anyway." Ravesa interrupted. "Now, it's my turn!"  
  
"No, I know you loved this person. I can feel it. I can't help you raise him or her." pleaded Willow.   
  
Ravesa laughed. "Is that what you think I'm here to do?" She laughed again, a short, bitter sound. "Wow, that's a big misunderstanding." She closed the distance between their bodies in three long-legged steps.  
"I'm not here because I want to raise my brother from the dead. If that could be done, I would have accomplished it already." Ravesa took Willow's face in her hands and leaned in close, as if for a kiss. "I'm here to punish his killer and everyone she loves."  
  
***  
  
A twenty-minute mini-patrol that left just one vamp blowing in the wind was all Buffy was willing to risk. Nothing, no baddie was going to keep her from getting Spike out of her house tonight. She felt almost giddy with anticipation as she turned her key in the front door lock.   
  
"I'm home!" She called out.  
  
No answer.  
  
Her elation turned to worry. There was no way that she beat Dawn and Spike home from the Bronze. Not unless they ran into trouble on the way back. Buffy ran to the phone and started pushing buttons before she realized that, like many people, she had never memorized her own cell phone number.  
  
"Oh crap!" she cried. She knew she had it written down somewhere. Maybe in the little address book she hardly ever used. She dumped out her purse to search for it. A crumpled five dollar bill. Half roll of butterscotch Lifesavers. Emergency tampon. Ticket stub from last Saturday's matinee. And a vial of holy water. No address book.  
  
Buffy dialed the first number that came to mind.  
  
"Hel.."  
  
"Xander! What's my cell phone number?"   
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I can't remember my number."  
  
"Okay, look, I don't know it by heart, Buffy. I'll have to look it up on my Palm."  
  
"Great!" she sighed with relief.  
  
"Um, I'll have to get back to you. I can't talk right now." Click.  
  
Buffy stared at the phone in shock. Xander hung up on her. He had never hung up on her before. Maybe it was an accident.  
  
She hit redial.  
  
***  
Xander answered before the first ring stopped. "Hello?"  
  
"You hung up on me." Buffy said in an aggrieved voice.  
  
"I know. Sorry. I'm trying to leave the line open in case Anya calls. I've left her three dozen messages."  
  
"Oh, you didn't catch up with her."   
  
A hesitation. "Well, actually I did. But she made some very specific threats to my anatomy if I followed her. Right now, I'm skulking in the hallway outside her apartment, hoping she'll come home soon."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Xan." Buffy consoled her best friend. "I hope she calls you. It was magick you know. Ravesa made you want to act that way with her."  
  
Buffy didn't need to hear Xander sigh to sense his relief through the phone. "I thought it had to be something like that." He said happily. "But why?"  
  
"I figured out that Ravesa was trying to split us all up so she could get Willow to go back to witchcraft."  
  
"Again why?"  
  
"Willow said that Ravesa came back to Sunnydale because a relative died. I think she wanted help in bringing this person back from the dead." Buffy explained. "Willow's going to talk to her, explain why resurrection spells are a bad idea."  
  
"Not always, Buff. Not always." Xander said tenderly. "I know last year was really rough on you, but I'm so glad your back."  
  
" I'm glad you're glad, but I really need you to dig out that Palm Pilot and give me my cell phone number. After you left, I gave Dawn my cell phone and told her to get Spike to take her home. Neither of them were here when I got back."  
  
"Do you think he did something to her?"  
  
Buffy thought about the stake she pressed upon her sister. "No. But I'm worried that they might have run into something nasty on the way home."  
  
Xander retrieved the number and gave it to Buffy. "If you're really worried, maybe I should come over."  
  
"No thanks. I think you're right where you belong. Hope Anya gets home soon so you two can start making up."  
They said their goodbyes and Buffy dialed her cell phone number. It rang and rang, then finally picked up. "Dawn!"  
  
Her own recorded voice responded. "Hi! You've reached the cell phone of Buffy Summers. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you."  
  
Buffy hung up the phone. She wanted to believe that Dawn was okay. Surely she would know if her sister was hurt...or worse. But she couldn't help thinking about all the evil that roamed Sunnydale after dark. The knowledge that Dawn was probably with Spike was little comfort. What if Ravesa had placed a spell on the vampire as well? His restored soul had neutralized the chip, allowing him to hurt humans again. Would Dawn have the heart to defend herself against Spike if he turned on her?   
  
Then she heard the motorbike outside her living room window. She jumped up and tore open the front door. Dawn and Spike stepped back in surprise. "Buffy?" The younger Summers gasped.  
  
The Slayer grabbed her sister by the arm and hauled her into the house. "Oww! Buffy, you're hurting me!" Dawn screeched as the blonde forced her onto the sofa.  
  
"Where have you been?" Buffy demanded. "I told you to come straight home."  
  
"We stopped to get something to eat. We even brought you dinner. Show her Spike!"  
  
The vampire was careful to stay out of staking range as he held up a greasy white paper bag. "The Nibblet had a yen for fish tacos."  
  
Buffy looked abashed as she walked over to take the fast food.  
  
"I was really hungry." Dawn explained. "So I asked Spike to stop at Taco Taco. It's only a block away from the Bronze. I didn't think you'd go psycho!"  
  
Buffy dropped the bag of fish tacos on the coffee table and sat down next to Dawn. "I'm sorry, honey. I was just worried about you." She reached out to stroke her sister's hair.  
  
Dawn brushed off the soothing gesture. "If you're so worried, why don't you go grocery shopping some time. I knew that there wouldn't be anything to eat here. There's never anything to eat here anymore now that Willow is spending all her time with Ravesa" The teen complained. "You don't even bring home stuff from the Doublemeat anymore. You just go to work or stay out all night long on patrol. If you're so worried, why do you leave Spike and me to fend for ourselves?"  
  
It was true. Buffy couldn't remember the last time that she had brought home groceries or takeout or fresh pigs' blood. She'd been steering clear of the house at meal times in order to avoid Spike. "Dawnie, I'm sorry." She said. "And I promise that starting right now, things around here are going to change."  
The Slayer stood up. "It's moving day, Spike."  
  
***  
  
Fool me once, shame on you. Anya thought. Fool me twice, I find some way to make you cry your eyes out.   
  
A few months ago, when she was newly re-demonized and had tried to curse Xander for leaving her at the altar, Anya had felt powerless. This time around, she decided to take vengeance in some time-honored human fashion.   
  
So what would it be, she mused as she looked around his apartment. She could burn all of his clothes and other personal possessions. Several of her past clients had done that and it seemed to produce copious weeping in their cheating men. But not surprisingly, materialistic Anya couldn't bring herself to torch her lover's belongings.  
  
Okay, well she could show him that what is good for the goose was good for the gander. Or vice versa, since in this case it was the gander who decided to stray. Anya decided she would find one of Xander's friends and give them a lap dance in front of everyone at the Bronze. Yes, he'd cry when it was her doing the bump and grind.  
  
Anya picked up the phone and paused. The only flaw in this plan was that Xander was short on male friends. In fact, she didn't know the name of a single male that her lover was on a first name basis with. Except for Giles. Okay, that's not really a first name basis or he'd call him Rupert. But Giles was in Asia on a month-long buoying trip for the Magic Box. Besides, after she and Giles kissed when Willow made them all have amnesia, Anya swore that she'd never explore that side of their partnership again.  
  
C'mon. Who else could there be? Anya looked around for Xander's address book. Then she remembered. He threw it away when he got that stupid Palm Pilot as a reward for the parking garage coming in under budget and ahead of deadline. Okay, think! There must be someone that it would kill Xander to see me with.  
  
Spike. The name came unbidden and she pushed it back to the furthest corners of her mind. It bounced right back. No one would hurt Xander more than Spike. The look on his face when he confronted them outside the Magic Box. Like she'd ripped his heart out and replaced it with a hot coal. Anya's moment of weakness almost destroyed him and almost all hope for a reconciliation.  
  
And yet, they had reconciled. Just two weeks ago. That's why they were celebrating tonight. Having such a good time before Willow's friend joined them.  
  
Anya froze. Everything had changed once that Ravesa woman came to the table. Buffy and Dawn tensed up. She herself got nervous because of all the questions about her amulet. And then, Ravesa made those awful insinuations about Spike.  
Willow swore she didn't tell her friend any of the Scoobies' personal business, yet Anya was sure that Ravesa knew that Buffy and Spike had been lovers. And that she also had slept with the blond vampire.  
  
That left one possibility. "Witchcraft." Anya laughed. "How could I have missed it. She put a spell on Willow to find out our secrets. And then she put a spell on my Xander to make him dance with her."   
  
The vengeance demon's eyes narrowed. "Wait until I find her."  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile, Buffy stood outside her sister's door, knocking worriedly. "Open up, Dawnie!"  
  
"Go away!" The teen shrieked.  
  
"It's for your own good, Dawn. Eventually, you'll realize I'm right. I'm trying to give you a normal life. A vampire living in your basement isn't normal."  
  
"No more abnormal than a witch sleeping in the bedroom down the hall." The younger Summers retorted.   
  
"That's different and you know it." She snapped back. "Willow is my best friend. She's like family. She took care of you while I was dead."  
  
Dawn yanked open the door wide enough to look at her sister. "So did Spike. He's still taking care of me. You asked him to stay until you found out what was up with creepy Ravesa."   
  
Buffy seized on that. "Well, I did. Find out that is. Ravesa was using magick on Willow. Xander too for that matter. Hence the naughty touching."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"She wanted help reviving this dead relative of hers."  
  
"Oh." For the first time, Dawn felt some sympathy for Ravesa. She had tried the same thing when her mother died.  
  
Her sister pressed on. "Willow's going to tell her she can't do it. The danger, if there ever was one is over. Which is why it's time for Spike to leave."  
  
Dawn glared at her sister and slammed her bedroom door shut.  
  
Buffy sighed and headed downstairs.  
  
A Manchester United game on the television. A pair of Doc Martaan's on the coffee table. Spike's white blond head half-hidden behind a magazine.   
  
"You should be packing." She chided.  
  
"Done." He indicated a cardboard box to the side of the couch.  
  
"Good," replied Buffy. "We can leave as soon as I know Willow's on her way home. It'll only take me fifteen or twenty minutes to undo the charges."   
  
The vampire didn't even look at her as he turned the page.  
  
They sat in awkward silence for a couple minutes. Buffy felt that Spike was waiting for her to say something. She picked up the remote and turned the channel. Teeth filled the screen as Sandra Bullock hammed her way through a romantic comedy.  
  
Spike snorted and turned another page.  
  
Buffy felt her blood pressure rising. Before Spike left, she wanted him to prove that he could read that fast.  
  
"About that bet..." she started.   
  
He lowered the magazine and lifted a scarred eyebrow.  
  
The phone rang. Buffy reluctantly answered it. "Hello?"  
  
"Hi! Just wanted to let you know that everything's okay now."  
  
"Willow, that's great." Buffy said with relief. "When you coming home?"  
  
"Um...couple hours maybe. There's still some stuff that I want to talk about with Ravesa."  
  
"Oh." Buffy couldn't hide her disappointment. "I was hoping that you'd be back soon so I could take the charges out of Spike's crypt. He's gotta go tonight, Will!"  
  
Her best friend chuckled. "Okay. I'll head home. But since there's nothing to worry about from Ravesa anymore, can't you leave now?"  
  
Buffy thought about it. "I guess. But hurry home. Dawn's upset and I don't want to leave her alone for long."  
  
"Don't worry, she won't be."  
  
***  
Ravesa grinned at her captive. "She bought it."  
  
Willow slumped in her bonds. She had hoped that Buffy wouldn't fall for the glamourie spun by the dark-haired witch. Now, her best friend was going to leave the most vulnerable member of the Scoobie's alone in the house.  
  
***  
Spike hefted the bulging box of his belongings. "I'll come back for the motorbike later." He told Buffy as they left for the cemetery.  
  
"Fine. Just don't wake Dawn."  
  
"Oh, you think she'll have cried herself to sleep by then?" he asked sarcastically.  
  
Buffy gave Spike a hard stare. "Don't be so assured that Dawn won't be relieved that you're gone."  
  
"Why? Because you told her that Willow's witchy friend might have put a spell on me, made me want to reconsider that offer of Summers' blood?"  
  
The Slayer froze.  
  
"That is why you gave her the stake, right?"  
  
Buffy squared her shoulders. "Ravesa was putting spells on people. Willow and Xander at least. How could I know she wouldn't try it on you?"  
  
The blond vampire kept walking.  
  
Damn it, why did she feel like she owed him an apology! "I know that you would never intentionally hurt Dawn, but Ravesa made Xander do...things with her. Right in front of Anya and everyone else at the Bronze.  
  
Spike shook his head. "Too bad. Anya's a nice bird."  
  
The Slayer stopped in her tracks at the sound of the vengeance demon's name. It made her feel funny to hear Spike complement Anya. It was clear that he found her attractive. Otherwise, he wouldn't have screwed her on a table at the Magic Box.   
  
Buffy wanted to believe that her resolve about the end of her own affair with Spike would have held even if the vampire hadn't tried to rape her. But, the fact remained that his fling with Anya hurt her badly.   
  
In silence, the Slayer and the Vampire crossed town and headed into the cemetery. When they got twenty yards or so from the crypt, Spike stopped and put the box down.  
  
"Hey! No stalling now!" Buffy protested.  
  
"Shh." Spike put a finger to her lips. "Don't you hear that?"  
  
Buffy listened, but even with her Slayer-enhanced hearing she heard only the normal night sounds. "What is it?" she whispered. "Fledgling digging his way out."  
  
Spike shook his head. "No. Not a vampire. Doesn't matter. Whatever it was, it's gone now." He bent back down for the box and all hell broke loose.  
  
The heat and light from the blast reminded the vampire of the time Dru decided to redecorate their Madrid apartment. She started with the heavy velvet curtains. At two in the afternoon.  
  
As Buffy was thrown backwards by the explosion, her only thought was that Spike had no place to go now that his crypt had blown up. Her cry of frustration was cut short when a chunk of masonry struck her head.  
  
***  
(Continued in Chapter 7) 


	7. Chapter 7

Unmoved  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the sequel to "Look What Love Gave Us" and the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us".  
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com   
  
***  
Chapter 7  
  
"C'mon, luv. Time to wake up."   
  
Buffy rolled over onto her back and looked up into Spike's gorgeous blue eyes. "Hmm." She stretched. "I must have dozed off."  
  
He laughed. "Tad more accurate to say you were knocked out."  
  
She smiled. "You're right. In fact, I'm still exhausted." She looked up at him through her lashes. "That was quite a workout." Buffy reached up and pulled Spike's head down. They kissed until she had to come up for breath.  
  
The vampire caressed her cheek. "Hate to break it to you, but you have to get up."  
  
"No." she snuggled back down into the covers. "I just want ten more minutes. Ten more minutes of sleep and then I'll be ready."  
  
Spike shook his head. "No can do. You need to get up now, Buffy."  
"Why do you have to be such a beast? We have hours before daybreak. Let me sleep for ten more minutes. I promise I'll be worth the wait." She closed her eyes.  
  
He grew more insistent. Shaking her. And calling her name. That's what comes from sleeping with an indefatigable and perpetually horny vampire. As soon as she drifted off, he was ready for another go at it.  
  
"Buffy, I'm serious. You have to get up. The firetrucks are coming."  
  
Firetrucks?  
  
Now Buffy really woke up.   
  
As in her dreams, Spike's eyes were her first sight. But they were amber and angry. He helped her to limp away from the burning crypt. There was a little copse of weeping willows nearby. Once they were out of sight, she collapsed to a seated position against a tombstone.   
  
Spike resumed his human mask as he knelt down beside her and probed her forehead. "Ouch!"  
  
"Quite an egg. Took you two minutes to wake-up"  
  
Buffy blushed. "I'll survive. What happened?"  
  
"My crypt blew up. That's what happened." He said morosely.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I can see that. I meant 'Why did it happen?'"  
  
"Oh, I don't know." He drawled sarcastically. "Maybe because a certain pain-in-the-arse Slayer left plastic explosives in it for a month until it was convenient for her to take them out."  
  
Buffy's face grew even hotter. "Spike, I'm..."  
  
"Sorry?" he snarled. "Sorry doesn't cut it, missy."   
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes and then Spike suddenly stood up. "My God!" He walked to the edge of the screen of trees, staring in horror at the flames. "It can't be." He tore at his hair. "No. No! Noooooo!"  
  
Now he wigs out, Buffy thought.   
  
Spike wheeled around, muttering to himself, "Maybe it's not that bad. The last time there was an explosion it survived."  
  
Buffy stood up and limped to Spike's side. She peered past him. A few firemen idly swung their hoses at dying flames. The rest stood around, shaking their heads at the remains of the crypt "Uh, Spike, I don't think so."  
  
"Aaaaaargh!"  
  
She leaned against the trunk of the nearest willow and searched for something she could say. "Of course, you can continue staying at the house until we find you another..." She fell silent at the sight of his face. The demon was back.  
  
"Do you really think I'm pissed off about being homeless?"   
  
"Er?"  
  
"Do you know, Slayer, what was in that crypt?" He didn't wait for her answer. "Of course you bloody well don't! If you did... If you had a soddin' clue, you wouldn't be sitting there, blathering about where I'm going to lay my head once the sun comes up."  
  
He paused in his tirade to fish out a cigarette. The he began angrily patting pockets in his duster and jeans.  
  
"Was it your lighter?" Buffy asked hopefully.  
  
He stared at her. "Are you off your trolley? You think I'm this brassed off about a lighter?"  
  
"Well," said a rapidly despairing Buffy. "You did say that it meant a lot to you when you lost it at my house. You know, right before I turned into Invisi-Buffy."  
  
Spike shook his white blond head in disgust. A final search turned up the antique Zippo and he resumed his rant after lighting up. "In that crypt, Buffy, was an object precious to me and irreplaceable. Not that you would recognize the value of it."  
  
Buffy bit her lip. She hoped that it wasn't some sort of gross vampire trophy like the ear of his first victim or a vial of Dru's blood.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
She was asleep when she heard the ruckus. Eyes half-shut, she stumbled to the downstairs. "Buffy? Willow?" She paused, hopeful. "Spike?"  
  
Unseen hands seized her and flung her onto the couch. In shock, she looked up at the two young women before her. "Willow? Ravesa? What's going on?""  
  
The darkhaired witch laughed. But Willow just stood there.  
  
"Where's Buffy?" Dawn demanded.  
  
"In about ten thousand pieces," Ravesa replied dryly.  
  
Dawn looked at Willow. The redhead seemed oddly stiff and yet at the same time, she appeared to be struggling.   
  
"Willow, are you...are you using witchcraft?" the teen asked.  
  
"Wrong!" roared Ravesa. "Willow here thinks she's too good for magick!" She made a dismissive gesture and Willow slumped to the floor.   
  
With great effort, Willow lifted her head and turned tortured eyes toward Ravesa. "Please stop this." She pleaded.  
  
Dawn slipped to Willow's side. "What's going on, Willow? I'm scared."  
  
"It's okay, Dawnie. There's nothing to be afraid of." Willow wished that she felt as confident of that as she sounded.   
  
"Wrong again."   
  
"Why do you keep saying that?" Dawn cried.  
  
"Because Willow here just doesn't get it. She thinks something good came out of her little rampage last spring. That the world is a better place because in her hunger for revenge, she sucked the power and life out of a man."  
  
"Rack" Willow said in a hoarse voice.  
  
"Isn't it?" Dawn asked, incredulously. "Isn't it a better place. He was a pusher. He fed her addiction. He would have used her until her power was all used up."  
  
"Not just me," Willow said softly. "He did it to Amy or anyone else who came. Like a parasite."   
  
"Silence!" Ravesa snarled. The desire to just destroy Willow right now was so strong that she had to turn away from them. It wasn't time yet. She waited until she felt in control again. "You came to him willingly enough. Took what he had to offer."   
  
Willow shook her head. "I was addicted. I didn't have a choice, Ravesa. You said that you knew how the magick takes a hold of you. You said you couldn't stay long in Sunnydale because it would pull you under."  
  
"It has." Her eyes flickered black for a second and Willow suddenly felt very cold and lightheaded.   
  
Dawn stared. For the first time since Ravesa appeared at the back door, the teen felt like she was seeing her clearly. The dark-haired stranger suddenly looked older and not nearly as attractive given the prominent tracery of veins across her face. "You..." she whispered.  
  
Ravesa turned to her. "Yes?"   
  
"You're Rack's sister."  
  
The witch laughed.   
  
Willow spoke up "Not just his sister. His twin!" She paused. "When I drained Rack, when I took his life, she felt everything. She always felt everything he did with magick, no matter how far away she was."  
  
Dawn looked at Ravesa in horror. To have felt your twin die. Suddenly empathy was more than an SAT word. It was the driving force behind the enraged witch in from of her.  
  
Willow persisted. "It wasn't really the Hellmouth you were running from all these years, was it, Ravesa? Or should I say Raven?"  
  
"Be quiet."  
  
"It was Rack, your own twin. You couldn't stand being near him. Even a continent wasn't enough distance between the two of you. You ran half a world away and you could still sense all that stolen power."  
  
I said, be quiet!" the dark-haired witch barked.  
  
Willow ignored her. "And well, you should, Raven. Since you were the one who taught him how."  
  
Raven froze.  
  
"See, when I drained Rack," Willow continued, "it wasn't just his power I absorbed. It was all his memories. And emotions." The redhead shook her head. "After all those years, even after you abandoned him, he still felt grateful to you."  
  
Willow turned toward Dawn. "They were born into a family of powerful witches from Albania. Well, once powerful. The blood had been diluted by breeding with too many non-witches. Their mother was the last of the line and her magick was weak. That's why Rack and Raven were conceived right here on the Hellmouth. It was hoped she'd give birth to a potent witch. When their mother sensed she was having twins, there was such rejoicing."  
  
"She thought we were double miracle." Raven said softly.  
  
"But in reality, you were only half a miracle, weren't you." Willow continued. "When you were born, you had all the power. No, not all." She corrected herself. "He had some. But the real power, it was yours."  
  
Raven nodded.  
  
"And as you grew older, it became apparent. By age five, you could do things that he couldn't. At age 12, it was clear that you had power he could never dream of.And Rack was ashamed. Ashamed and frightened."  
  
His twin twisted her hands in her hair. "He could feel it when I did magick. It confused him. Sometimes...sometimes, it caused him pain. And he would strike out at me. It was self-defense, but he was bigger and physically stronger. As he hit me, I would have to use magick to fight back." She took a ragged breath. "My mother was going to send him away to protect us both."   
  
The redhead nodded. "You found out her plans and that night. You taught him how to borrow the power from another witch."  
  
Raven closed her eyes. "I thought it would save us."  
  
"Rack tasted that power and he was instantly addicted," said Willow.   
  
"How long was it?" Dawn asked hoarsely.  
  
"What?" Raven asked.  
  
Willow laughed without mirth. "She wants to know how long it was before he drained you." She shook her head. "No, Dawnie. It wasn't like that. See Rack was too weak to handle more than a sample of his twin's power. But every other witch he encounter was fair game. He took and took from them with the illusion that they were getting something more in return. But soon, a taste wasn't enough."  
  
"Shut up!" The whites of Raven's eyes began to darken again.  
  
Willow did not cringe. "Did you realize as soon as you found her body?"  
  
Raven seemed to shake off her lethargy. "I said, shut up!" She screamed. But her brother's murderer raised defiant eyes. "So you ran, before your rage and grief made you kill him."  
  
The pain that lanced through Willow was excruciating, but she managed to yell out. "Dawnie, go! Now!"  
  
The teen hesitated before moving toward the door. It was all the time that Raven needed. She grabbed Dawn, twisting the girl's slender arm behind her back. "You're not going anywhere. Neither of you." She gave a twisted smile. "Not yet anyway."  
  
  
***  
The vampire was pacing now. "I stood in line for it. I actually stood in line like a bleeding mortal. Two hours!" He kicked a grave marker and it fell over. "That's how badly I wanted it."  
  
"Whatever it is, um, was, I am sorry Spike." Buffy said softly.  
  
Spike didn't hear her. Having exhausted denial, bargaining, and anger in quick succession, he had reached the next stage of loss for whatever was destroyed in the explosion. "All those years, all those countries. Even after Dru left me. Even when the Initiative put the soddin' chip in my head. It was there. The only constant."  
Completely aghast, Buffy gawked at the vampire. Was Spike weeping?  
  
"Look, at least we're alive..." Buffy's voice trailed off as he gave her an evil golden-eyed look. "You know what I mean." She finished weakly.  
  
The truth was, now that the shock was wearing off, their narrow escape from the explosion was beginning to hit her, too. "If Willow's call had come a few minutes earlier, we would have been inside." She shivered.  
  
Spike lifted his head from his hands and stared at her out of human eyes. "What are you talking about?"  
  
She repeated it.  
  
He shook his head. "Red didn't call you."  
  
She laughed. "Of course she did. That's why we left for the crypt. I didn't mind leaving Dawnie because Willow was coming straight home."  
  
The vampire approached her and took her face gently in his hands. Cool fingers probed the bump on her brow.  
  
"Ouch. Stop that!" She batted his hands away. And looked up to into deeply worried blue eyes. "What!"  
  
"We've got to get you to a doctor." He scooped her up in his arms. "You must have a concussion. Out of your head, talking nonsense like that."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I should've known from all the blathering about sleeping and ...the snogging"  
  
"Snogging!" Buffy's face burned. So not everything had been a dream. "Put me down, Spike."  
  
"No!" He barked. "You might have a subdural... whatever you call it. One of those blood clots that squeezes your brains to mush."  
  
She twisted in his arms, trying to get him to let go. "I don't! Look, maybe something is wrong with you."  
  
"No, Slayer." he said grimly. "I'm not the one imagining phone calls."  
  
Buffy gritted her teeth. "I didn't imagine it!"   
  
Spike raised a dark eyebrow "Now let's go, before that pretty head of yours explodes."  
  
"No. Now, let go."  
  
Something in her voice made him comply. He set her gently on her feet. Buffy made an effort not to totter as she walked to a nearby headstone and sat down.  
  
Spike watched her warily as he lit another cigarette.   
  
Real consistent concern for her health, Buffy thought as she waved away the drifting smoke. "Spike, something is very wrong. I know that Willow called me. We spoke on the phone right before you and I left the house."  
  
Spike shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "You were sitting, watching some chick flick. Then you jumped up and said we were leaving."  
  
"Maybe you didn't hear the phone."  
  
He blew a smoke ring. "Vampire, remember. Preternatural hearing."  
  
"No, Spike. You're wrong! See, look at the caller ID." She pulled out her cell phone and switched it on.  
  
Spike took the device and peered at it. "It says 'no incoming calls.'" He held it out to show her the screen.   
  
She stared at the phone in disbelief. "No. I remember talking to Willow." She insisted.  
  
The vampire shrugged. "Maybe you did. Just not on the phone."  
  
"How then?" She wrinkled her brow. "Oh! Magick."  
  
Spike shook his white blond head. "Bad news if Red fell off the wagon."  
  
Buffy nodded, then she stopped. "But why would she use magick when she could just call."  
They stared at each other. Then Buffy slowly stood up. "Spike, It wasn't Willow. It was Ravesa."  
  
The vampire sucked in a chestful of smoke. "She wanted us out of the house."   
  
Buffy took off running before he could throw the butt to the ground. 


	8. Chapter 8

Unmoved  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the sequel to "Look What Love Gave Us" and the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us".  
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com   
  
Note to readers: Thanks for all the reviews. Some of you have asked 1) what Dawn was doing when she broke curfew in "Look What Love Gave Us" and 2) what was it that Spike lost when the crypt blew up in Chapters 6 & 7 of this fanfic. Well, my curious darlings, you'll just have to keep reading. The first three stories in this series all have a little mystery. All the answers are revealed in the fourth and final tale.  
  
***  
Chapter 8  
  
Maude Chillingworth thought they should call the police.   
  
Norma disagreed. True, the sounds coming from next door were disturbing, especially given the late hour. However, with these young people nowadays, you couldn't just assume that something was wrong. Why, just that very morning on the number 9 bus, she had seen a boy of 15 or 16 slumped over and drooling so heavily his t-shirt was translucent with the dampness. His head flopped like a rag doll's each time the bus hit a pothole. Worried he was having a fit, she risked a broken hip by leaving her seat to get the driver's attention. Yet, when the bus was halted and the youth roused, it turned out that he was fine. Well, not exactly fine. He was in fact both fairly drunk and suffering from an infected lip piercing.  
  
Oh, how horrible, Maude sighed. She wondered aloud why his parents would permit such a thing. Her fingers drifted up to one softly wrinkled earlobe. Their own mother had not even allowed them to pierce their ears.  
  
The point, Norma interrupted, is that all that came from her concern was mockery from the boy and the ire of her fellow passengers for causing a delay. So, Maude should sit down and stop worrying about the noises.  
  
"But," her younger sister quavered, "I thought that I heard moaning and breaking glass."  
  
"It wouldn't be the first time." Norma snapped. "That girl is always raising some ruckus. Now forget about it so that I can concentrate. I want to finish Bunky's new sweater. A few more rows and it'll will be done." In response to his name, the sisters' fawn-colored cockerdoodle lifted his head and thumped his tail. When no treats or "walkies" were offered, the old dog went back to sleep to the sound of his elder mistress' clicking needles.  
  
Maude looked wistfully at the telephone. She rather liked the neighbor girl, although she kept strange hours and usually seemed unhappy. It was horrible to think that something might be going amiss while she and Norma sat right there. Still, she had been obeying her older sister for some seventy years. And with the exception of rejecting Samuel Clarke' proposal, Norma had caused her no regrets. Ignoring the latest loud thuds, Maude turned back to her magazine.  
  
Meanwhile, across the hall, Xander was sure he was going to die. He wasn't eighteen anymore. Three --no four times in quick succession might not be sufficient to sate a make-up sex hungry vengeance demon, but it might be enough to kill a mortal man. Whatever Anya was doing to make him hard yet again was also making him too lightheaded to even find the words to beg her to stop.  
  
Maybe that was the point. She was just pretending to understand about Ravesa's spell and would exact her punishment by screwing him to death. Not a bad way to go. Certainly preferable to other methods she had inflicted on her client's unfaithful men over the years. Unquestionably better than the unclean ends of many a Sunnydale resident. In all the years Xander had fought at Buffy's side, he never imagined he would die in bed.  
  
At the thought of Buffy, he felt bad that he hadn't checked back about Dawn. He was about to call the Summers' house when Anya had come home. He had barely gotten out an apology before she was in his arms. It felt so good to hold her that he didn't pay close attention to her babbling about Ravesa's spell and something about his Palm Pilot and lap dances.   
  
Somehow Anya managed to key open her door while kissing him fervently. Once inside the apartment, she shoved him onto the sofa. Xander's arms flailed for balance and he brought down a lamp with a resounding crash. Anya didn't seem to notice. She was too busy tugging at his belt with one hand while the other roughly stroked him through the rapidly tenting fabric of his khakis. As she yanked off his pants, his left leg sent the teak coffee table over in a cascade of Cosmo, Lucky, and Fortune 500. That solid thud was followed by another when Anya threw his pants over her shoulder, knocking a heavy Zulu mask off the wall. Then her greedy mouth was on his bare flesh and he stopped caring about how much noise they were making.   
  
They made love quickly and half-clothed the first time. The second round, Xander's shirt came off; which turned out to be a mistake because they were on the living room floor and now he had rug burns on his back. The third time --his mind reeled at the thought--, Anya let him pull her to the bed and undress her. Then she lost patience and it was all he could do to try to keep up as she rode him.   
  
Her aggressiveness was exciting, but Xander's stamina was beginning to flag and he was pretty sure that he couldn't come a fourth time. "An..." he whispered. "Anya, I'm only human. You gotta let me rest."  
  
She rolled her eyes, but relented. They snuggled as Xander tried to ignore the alarms that various body parts were sending out. At length, he made his tone as diplomatic as possible. "Don't get me wrong. This has been very enjoyable. But, I hope we don't have to break the world record for consecutive acts of coitus for me to prove that you're the only woman for me."  
  
Anya raised her head from his chest. "I thought I'd lost you again. Now I know it was a spell, but when I saw you dancing with Ravesa like that..." her voice trailed off and she looked away.  
  
"What is it, hon?" He gently turned her head towards him.  
  
"I thought that you were punishing me for Spike!" A single tear rolled down her cheek  
  
"Anya, look at me." Xander said. "That's water under the bridge, remember. And I could never hurt you that way. Not ever." He dried her eyes and kissed her. "I want you to understand something, Anya. I'm a guy, a human guy. And that means that until the day I die, I'm going to be attracted to pretty girls."  
  
Her face fell.  
  
"No, honey. Hear me out." He took a deep breath. "I'll be attracted to them, but I'm not going to act on it because I'm in love with you. What happened tonight was Ravesa's spell. And it's never going to happen again because Willow is going to tell her that her plan don't work."  
  
Anya wrinkled her nose. "What plan?"  
  
He shrugged, "Some relative of hers died. Buffy thinks Ravesa wanted Willow's help with a resurrection spell."  
  
She sat up. "Xander, that doesn't make sense. Resurrection spells don't work for natural deaths. That's why Willow couldn't bring Tara back after Warren shot her. The best you can do is reanimate the corpse. Make a zombie."  
  
"So, maybe Ravesa didn't know that."  
  
Anya shook her head. "I don't believe that. Xander, Ravesa looked into Willow's head somehow. She knew things about us, private things."  
  
It was his turn to look puzzled.  
  
"While you were under her spell, she was torturing Buffy and me about a certain vampire."  
  
"What?" How could he have not have noticed that?  
  
"It was nothing explicit, just little hints. That's beside the point. What I'm trying to say is that if Ravesa took a peek at Willow's memories of us, why wouldn't she look at her memories about Tara?"  
  
It made sense. "Okay, so maybe she was so desperate she was willing to settle for a zombie."  
  
Anya shook her head again. "You don't need a witch as powerful as Willow for that. The hardest part is assembling the ingredients. Once you've done that, a child could do it." She gave a rueful laugh. "In fact, a child did do it. Remember, Dawn called Joyce back. Her zombie at least"  
  
Xander shuddered. He had nightmares for weeks after Buffy told him about the narrow escape from disaster when her grief stricken little sister summoned their mother's body from its grave. "But, what if Ravesa's relative didn't die a supernatural death. Then it's possible to resurrect the person. Only it's harder, right? Willow took months to prepare for bringing Buffy back to life. And, she almost died during the ritual. It makes sense that Ravesa would want help if she was trying that."  
  
Anya was silent.  
  
"Honey?"  
  
"Xander, in the past four months, there have only been two supernatural deaths in Sunnydale."  
  
He laughed. "Buffy's worked hard at keeping the vamp and demon population down, but she's not that good."  
  
"No." Anya shook her head. "Just because a vampire or demon kills a person doesn't mean that it's a supernatural death. Look, a vampire kills his victim by exsanguination."  
  
Xander looked at her blankly.  
  
"Draining all the blood." She explained. "A messy, but natural death. Most humans who die at the hands of other demons are killed the same way. Massive blood loss or severe trauma injuries to major organs. The human body simply stops working because of the damage. No actual magick involved."  
  
Now Xander sat up. "Two deaths. Magick involved," he said with growing unease.  
  
Anya nodded. "Warren and Rack. Both at Willow's hands."  
  
"Oh, God." While he was engaged in a sexathon, his best friend was in grave danger. Xander grabbed the phone and dialed the Summers' house. By the fourth ring, he knew it wasn't going to be answered. He turned to Anya, "Can you find Ravesa?"  
  
The vengeance demon hesitated. "I can't promise. But I'll try."  
  
"Good. When you find her, don't confront her. Just see where she is. What's she's doing"  
  
Anya bit her lip. She had her own plans for Ravesa if she found the witch. "Okay." She lied.  
  
Xander smiled. "Meanwhile, I go to the house. See what's going on."  
  
No more words were necessary. They dressed quickly and left the apartment. In the parking lot, the reunited couple shared a brief embrace. "Be careful, Xander."  
  
"I will, Anya. You be careful, too."  
  
As he released her, Xander had an unsettling feeling that they were both purposely avoiding the word goodbye. As if to confirm his suspicion, Anya simply disappeared.   
  
***  
  
The three of them were caught in terrible tableaux. The slender teen cowering before the black-eyed witch as the redheaded young woman lay on the floor, her arm stretched out beseechingly.  
  
Though it was surely mere seconds, it seemed to Dawn that it was eons before anyone moved or spoke. Then, a passing car sent its headlights slanting through the living room window, breaking their paralysis.  
  
"Raven." Willow said pleadingly. She stood up on unsteady legs. Took a step forward and regretted it instantly as Raven did something to make Dawn cry out. "I do know how you feel. And I know that what you want to do is destroying you. You can have walk away from it.  
  
Raven shook her head. "I can't."   
  
"Then, at least let Dawn go."  
  
"And why would I want to do that," The witch scoffed.  
  
Willow was surprised by how calm she sounded. "She's innocent. All of my friends are. They tried to stop me when I went evil." Just like I'm trying to stop you, she wanted to say. "Spare them."  
  
"Too late."  
  
"What do you mean, too late?" Dawn demanded.  
  
Raven gave the brunette a scornful look. "Your sister and the vampire are dead." She smiled. "And they made it so easy for me. Leaving all those explosives in the crypt."  
  
"No!" Dawn shrieked. "No! I don't believe it. You're lying." She turned to her friend. "She's lying. Right, Willow?"  
  
Somehow, saying it made the pain worse. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. Raven did a spell that tricked them into thinking I called the house. Buffy thought I was coming straight home so she and Spike left. Raven made the explosives go off. The crypt must have been destroyed."  
  
Dawn felt numb. Her sister was dead. Again. And this time, a senseless death. Spike was gone, too.  
  
"Hey, Dawnie?" Raven mocked. "It's not so bad. You'll be seeing her and the vampire soon. And the demon and carpenter not long after that."  
  
"No!" Willow said. "You don't really want them. Just me. I'm the only guilty one." She swallowed. "The one who should pay."  
  
"Yes." Raven breathed.  
  
"Let Dawn go."  
  
"She'll go running for help."  
  
"Is it really going to take that long?" Willow said. "Whatever you came to do?"  
  
A little smile curved Raven's lips. "Oh, yes. See I've been hurting for months. Did you really think that I was going to end your suffering so quickly? I plan to savor every second. I might even extend my pleasure by making you watch as I finish off the rest of your friends."  
  
Dawn suddenly stopped crying and tried to attack Raven. The witch rolled her eyes and easily deflected the blow. "On further consideration, I'll enjoy your death more without the distraction from this one." She leaned in close to Dawn and whispered into her head. "Sleep."   
  
The teen's eyes widened then slowly closed. Her slender body folded to the floor and Willow cried out. "Dawnie! What did you do to her?" The redhead asked in horror.   
  
"Don't be foolish." Raven snapped. "She's unharmed. She'll sleep until I'm finished.   
  
But Willow ignored the dark-haired witch. She crawled forward to cradle her young friend's head in her lap. "Hey, you!" she whispered anxiously as she stroked strands of chestnut hair away from Dawn's face.  
  
"I told you she's sleeping. In fact, she's dreaming. No doubt her dreams are more pleasant that your reality." Raven grabbed Willow's arm and yanked her to her feet. "Leave her."  
  
Willow pulled away and stared at Raven defiantly. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Rack's twin frowned. The bitch should be on her knees begging for her life. Or trying to flee at the very least. "Don't just stand there. Do you really think that I would make it that easy for you? No, I want you to run."  
  
An invisible hand shoved Willow forward. She caught her balance easily, but her body tingled at the touch of Raven's dark power. A longing surged up in her to respond, to show Rack's sister what a real witch was. But she pushed it down. Tried to clear her mind and soul of its contamination. If she was going to die, she was going to die clean.  
  
It only took moments for Willow to feel more in control. But, before she could completely recover, there was another shove. She stumbled against the sofa, twisting her ankle. And then, as she knelt, massaging the injury, she felt a stinging slap to her cheek. Within seconds, a dozen invisible hands assaulted her, shoving, punching, slapping, and pinching. She twisted to avoid the blows, but it was useless. Whatever they were, the things Raven had summoned were too fast for human reflexes.   
  
Willow moaned as what felt like a fingernail raked the corner of her eye.  
  
Raven smiled. Finally, some satisfaction. As the spell worked, she contemplated her next move.  
  
Meanwhile, Willow was curled in a fetal position two feet away from Dawn's sleeping form. The hands were drawing blood now and the redhead had covered her face to protect her eyes. Suddenly, her blouse tore and she felt invisible hands tweak her nipples. Willow broke then. Scrambled to her feet and ran.  
  
"Run, bitch." Ravesa screamed.  
  
***  
  
Buffy had been running after vampires for nearly eight years. She knew how fast they could move, but she suspected Spike was breaking preternatural land speed records. She could see flashes of his white blond head between the trees now and then, but it seemed a blur. She worried that meant she was slowing down.   
  
Although Slayers were endowed with endurance as well as speed, Buffy was more accustomed to short sprints. She hadn't run this fast for this long since the night that Willow went dark. Every other step sent jolts of pain through her injured leg. Worse, her chest was beginning to burn with the effort to oxygenate her blood. Soon her ears would begin to ring. She didn't want to think about what would happen after that.  
  
But then, they were out of the graveyard and she knew that she was only fifteen minutes from home. It gave her an extra burst of energy that carried her past Spike and through the dark streets. As she turned onto her own street, she saw Xander's truck pull up, but she didn't slow. Just leapt up the stairs and battered open the door.  
  
"Oh, God!" Buffy screamed when she saw Dawn lying on the floor. She fell to her knees next to her sister. It was clear that the teen was alive. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically and her pulse was strong. "Dawn! Dawnie, wake up." Buffy cried.  
  
Spike and Xander skidded in. "Is she okay?" the vampire asked.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "She's unconscious. Help me get her off the floor. Xander, please get the lights so I can see better."  
  
Spike gently lifted Dawn onto the sofa. Then he stepped back as Buffy examined her sister. It soon became apparent that Dawn had no visible injuries. In fact, a faint smile graced her face. It was as if she was dreaming.   
  
Xander cleared his throat. "Buffy, Anya figured out that Ravesa must be Rack's sister. She came to kill Willow."   
  
Buffy nodded. "Not just Willow...Ravesa tried to kill Spike and me tonight. She thought we were in the crypt and she blew it up."  
  
Why did Ravesa think Spike and Buffy were in the crypt, Xander wondered. Were they sleeping together again? He stared at them.  
  
"What?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Nothing." Xander turned away and walked across the living room. There were clear signs of a struggle. He walked across the room pick up a fallen picture frame. The cracked glass distorted the Scoobies smiling faces, making them look sinister. He sat the photo face down. What had happened here?  
  
When Xander came back to the sofa, Spike and Buffy's faces were mere inches apart as they bent over Dawn. Buffy murmured something. Then Spike said something and laid a hand on her shoulder. She didn't shrug it off. In fact, it seemed to Xander that she relaxed a little.   
  
He cleared his throat. The vampire and Slayer looked his way. "What can I do?" he asked. "Do you want to give her a glass of water?"  
  
Buffy shook her head and turned back to Spike. "Are you sure she's okay?"  
  
"She's not hurt. If she had a head injury or some other hemorrhage, I'd smell it." He said with certainty. "She's just sleeping."  
  
Buffy nodded, accepting the vampire's claim, but Xander rolled his eyes. That didn't make any sense. "What do you mean, you could smell it?"   
  
"Vampire, remember. Preternatural sense of smell. I know the scent of blood. Even when it's still inside a body. If she was bleeding inside, I'd know."  
  
"Gross!" Xander said. Spike and Buffy didn't even seem to hear him.   
  
Xander hated to leave Buffy alone with the Spike, but he felt useless standing there. He decided to search the house for any sign of Willow and Ravesa. When he came back into the living room, the vampire stood up and signaled to him with a tilt of his head. They walked into the passageway to the dining room.   
  
"Willow and Ravesa aren't here."  
  
"I know." Spike said. "They were here. But they've been gone at least a half an hour."  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
Spike made an exasperated sound. "Their scents are faint." He flared his nostrils.   
  
"Oh, yeah." Xander said sarcastically. "Your super sense of smell. The same way that you know Dawn's okay. You can smell that they're gone."  
  
Spike flared his nostrils. "Not just that they're gone. I can tell how they felt. Red's scared. Real scared. And her 'friend' is real angry."  
  
"You expect me to believe that can tell all that from scents." Xander said dubiously.  
  
"I don't expect you to believe anything." Spike paused and smirked. "But you did just get shagged good and proper by your demon girlfriend. And you're feeling guilty about it." Spike raised a scarred eyebrow. "That's interesting." He leaned forward and took a deep sniff. "Guilty and scared."  
  
Xander's hand slid into his jacket for a stake. Damn, he thought, the only day I left home without one.   
  
He started to walk away. But then he caught sight of the vampire's face and grabbed a fistful of Spike's t-shirt. Even stake-less, Xander didn't care that the chip was useless now. He just wanted to make that smirk disappear. Forever.  
  
Spike met the young man's glare and his smirk broadened into a grin. Harris was the larger of the two. And three years of construction work had strengthened him, but the whelp was no physical match for a vampire. Especially one hardened by the heavy hand and mercurial nature of Angelus. Most nights, the fledgling William had struck or caressed. Sometimes both. Until the distinction between acts of pleasure and those of violence blurred. It had been a long time since Spike groaned beneath the fists or mouth of his Grandsire, but old habits died hard. The disastrous affair with Buffy was proof of that. And now, Spike hungered for Xander's ineffectual blows the way another man might desire a lover's kisses.  
  
But there were more pressing concerns right now. "Not now, Harris. Both of us are needed tonight."  
  
Even through his haze of anger, Xander knew it was reason not cowardice that spurred the vampire's words. He let go of Spike and gritted out "Later. You. Dust."   
  
"Yeah, whatever." Spike said. He smoothed out the crumpled spot on his t-shirt. "Let's see if the Nibblet has woken up."  
  
Meanwhile, in the living room, Buffy was growing frantic. She had tried everything to wake her sister. The teen had not so much as flinched when Buffy slapped her lightly. And the same eerie smile remained on her face. Dawn appeared caught in a dream too wonderful to wake from. Would she remain like this forever?  
  
Buffy stood up when Spike and Xander reentered the room. The tension between the two was more palpable than usual, but she ignored it. "I can't wake her up. It must be some type of sleeping spell."  
  
They didn't look surprised. Spike sat down next to Dawn and smoothed a few stray chestnut tendrils back from the teen's forehead. The tender gesture pierced Buffy.  
  
Xander walked over to Buffy. "Anya is searching for Ravesa. Meanwhile, I'll go to the Magic Box. See if I can find a book that tells us how to break the spell."   
  
Buffy nodded and they embraced. When the door shut behind Xander, she turned to Spike. "It's my fault. If I hadn't left..."  
  
The vampire shook his head. "Stop. You can't blame yourself for the evil other people do."  
  
"But I'm the Slayer and I'm supposed to stop them." Buffy raked fingers through her hair. "Even if Xander finds a way to reverse the spell and Anya finds Ravesa, what am I going to do? I can't fight a witch that powerful. When Willow was evil, she kicked my ass. If Giles hadn't come back, she might have killed me. And even then, it was Xander who stopped her. And I don't think he and Ravesa went to kindergarten together."  
  
"When Ravesa is done with Willow, she will come back here for Dawn." Her voice cracked. "And the only thing I can do is run."  
  
Spike seemed to be thinking. "When I got back from Africa last summer, Clem told me about what happened with Willow. He said he could have helped you."  
  
Buffy made a sound of disbelief.  
  
Spike nodded. "At first, I thought the same thing. Then I saw it."  
  
"What?' She asked.  
  
"He has a shield."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I don't understand."  
  
Spike stood up. "Clem said that his kind used to forge weapons. For six thousand years, they were the best sword makers in existence. Their work was sought by every warrior, human or demon, but few would ever bear their weapons. Because they made one sword a generation. Just one and then only if they thought the warrior who would bear it was worthy."  
  
"So what does this have to do with stopping a witch," Buffy asked.  
  
"One day the swordmakers were given a commission. They were asked to make a shield. None of them had made one before and there was the chance that if they failed, it would ruin their reputation. Only Clem's seven times great-grandfather would risk it. He locked himself in his forge for weeks, not eating, not sleeping. When he emerged, he had made a very powerful shield. One that could withstand not just physical attacks, but magick."  
  
Buffy stood up. "You saw this shield?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Get it."  
  
Spike shook his head. "It's not that simple, luv. Remember, the swordmasters were always worried that the weapons they made would be used for evil. Clem's ancestor was no exception. In fact, he was a bit fanatical about it. I can't touch the shield."  
  
Buffy was confused. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Soul or no soul, I'm a vampire who's murdered countless humans. And not just for their blood. I killed for the sheer pleasure of it."  
  
Her eyes lit with understanding. "You're not worthy."  
  
He knew it was true, but hearing Buffy say it still hurt. "Slayer, if I tried to wield that shield, it would destroy me." He paused. "You'll have to get it."  
  
***  
  
Willow wasn't quite sure when the invisible hands ceased tormenting her. All she knew was that she had run across the length of town until she was exhausted. Then, lacking the strength to take a single step further, she crawled into the open basement window of a nearby abandoned building.   
  
Once inside, she struggled to push a rusting file cabinet against the window. Then, straining to see in the dark, Willow examined her wounds. Dark marks from pinches and punches marred her fair skin. Then, there were the scratches. Most were long, but shallow. She hadn't been seriously injured, for the hands had intended to torture rather than maim. If she survived tonight, she would recover fully.  
  
If she survived tonight.  
  
Willow closed her eyes. Her hope of hiding was futile. Rack's twin would find her, if indeed the witch had lost track of her quarry at all.  
  
So, she would have to fight. The problem was, how could she fight a witch without magick?  
  
During her evil rage last June, she had scoffed when Buffy tried to fight her. Even the strength of a Slayer was nothing compared to magick. Only in Giles' spells had she truly met a challenge. And, even then, he had not deterred her for long. If Xander hadn't confronted her, EvilWillow would have destroyed the world.  
  
Willow knew that no childhood best friend of Raven was coming to intervene. But maybe, just maybe Willow could replicate that moment of emotional vulnerability. If so, she would have a chance to reason with the young woman she once saw as a friend.   
  
There was an ominous creaking sound overhead. Then a roar like a passing freight train. Willow had only a few seconds to take cover before it seemed that the building overhead was ripped away. When the winds died down, she was crouched in the middle of the sole small circle of space that was clear of rubble.  
  
Willow didn't need to hear the tinkle of glass being crushed underfoot to sense that Raven stood behind her. "It was so much fun watching you run, Willow"  
  
"I won't run again."  
  
The dark-haired witch smiled. "I was hoping you would say that."  
  
***  
Continued in Chapter 9. 


	9. Chapter 9

Unmoved  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us"  
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com  
  
  
***  
  
Any other night, Halfrek might not have minded. But she was working overtime. Progress reports for the first marking period had been issued that afternoon. And, as usual, certain parents refused to see the connection between neglecting their kids and failing grades. Sam Luckwell had been grounded for the rest of the month and sent to bed without dinner. Rhiana James' mother had taken one look at her daughter's progress report -a D average-and pronounced the eleven year-old worthless.   
  
"I can hardly ignore the little darlings' cries for vengeance to help you search for a witch."  
  
"Hallie, it's not just any witch." Anya protested. "She put a spell on Xander. And I think she might be Rack's sister."  
  
"Rack?" The ringlet-haired vengeance demon stood up. "The guy that your little friend Willow killed?"  
  
Anya nodded grimly.   
  
"That explains..." Halfrek's voice trailed off.  
  
"Explains what?"  
  
Halfrek bit her lip. "I know that somehow this will all end up being my fault.   
  
"What is it, Hallie?" Anya demanded.  
  
Her friend sighed. "Many years ago, there was a boy that I was following. His mother clearly preferred his twin sister. The girl was a powerful witch and he wasn't."  
  
"The boy was Rack." Anya said.  
  
The other vengeance demon nodded. "He was crying out for love and attention. It went on for years. Then, I learned that mother was planning on sending him away." Halfrek paused. "I was prepared to act. But then I sensed the boy's true nature. He was jealous of his sister and hurt her. I walked away."  
  
Anya nodded. She had done the same in cases where women were too imbalanced to sense that they had not been truly wronged.  
  
Halfrek continued. "The next day, he did something to his mother. Drained her of all her power. I had never seen anything like that before. The woman's body was like a husk. Dry, weightless, without color..." her voice trailed off.  
  
"It's not your fault, Hallie." Anya said softly.  
  
"I could have done something."  
  
"You can do something now. Help me find his sister before she kills Willow." Anya pleaded.  
  
Halfrek nodded. D'Hoffryn wouldn't appreciate her abandoning her duties, but it was the first time she'd played hooky in a century. And it was for a good cause. "Let me have 15 minutes." She asked Anya. "I want to send Robert Luckwell a little present."  
  
"Isn't that the editor-in-chief of the Sunnydale Dispatch?"  
  
"His son failed English because Dad was too busy chasing a Pulitzer to help him with his grammar homework. I thought Robert might enjoy a little dyslexia."  
  
***  
  
Spike handed Buffy a cup of instant coffee.  
  
"Thanks." She murmured, then sipped. The beverage was horrible -weak and far too sweet, but it was hot. And it was the first thing that Buffy had consumed since the cheap champagne hours ago. "Did you find that last bag of blood?'  
  
Spike held up his own mug of warmed blood. "In the freezer behind the cold packs. It's freezer-burned, but still better than nothing." The vampire took a noisy gulp. Then he suddenly spit the contents back into the mug and grimaced. "I take that back."   
  
"Sorry." Buffy said; and to her surprise, she actually meant it. "Maybe, you should go out..."  
  
"And what? Hunt?" he laughed harshly. "Find some deserving evil-doer to drink?" He shook his head. "No."  
  
"But, the blood thirst?"  
  
Spike stared at her with glimmers of yellow dancing in his eyes. "It's always there, Slayer. You know that."  
  
That was true. That was why she was worried. Her concern showed in her face.  
  
"You think I can't ignore it?' He continued. "Maybe, decide to snack on you or the Nibblet."  
  
"Spike, I didn't..." Buffy protested.  
  
"Listen, Summers, I've had hundreds of chances to tear your throat out. And not just every night of the last month sleeping under your roof. Think about it. The blood thirst was there every single time you and I did the nasty."  
  
Her face burned. Memories of the desire mingled with fear as he trailed his lips along her neck or nipped her inner thigh. Yes, she had sensed how he had ached with one need even as he sated the other. Passion might have made Buffy willing to overlook that Spike was her mortal enemy, but the pleasure he brought her was never enough to make her forget that he would savor her blood.  
  
He couldn't disguise the hurt in his voice. "You never asked Soul Boy if he could handle a few days without blood."  
  
Again, Spike was speaking the truth. "Angel was different." Buffy said softly.  
  
The vampire made a sound of disgust "Why? Because he had a soul."  
  
She shook her head. "No, Spike. Because I trusted him."  
  
He met her eyes again. "And you'll never trust me."  
  
She didn't respond.  
  
"Wait. That's not exactly true." Spike's voice stayed low, but the tone was acid with anger. "You trust me enough to watch over your sister and Red. But now that I've failed at that, you think I'm going to rip your throats out." He turned from her.  
  
To both their surprise, Buffy laid a hand on his arm. "Spike, I don't think you failed."  
  
He stared at her.  
  
"You said this wasn't my fault." Buffy took a deep breath. "Well, it's not your fault, either. If you had been here, you would have protected Dawn. I know that. And I know that you can ignore the need for blood. I just want you to be in the best shape possible when we confront Ravesa."   
  
Spike was silent.  
  
"I'm serious." And she was.  
  
"You're right. We'll need our strength."  
  
Buffy dropped her hand from his arm. "Drink the blood. Stir some Tabasco sauce or whatever you like to mask the taste, but drink it."  
  
Spike nodded. "You should eat something yourself, Slayer."   
  
"I'll heat up those fish tacos I never got to.  
  
"No." He reached out and ran a finger along her jaw. "I'll do it. Go clean up. You've got grave dirt on your cheek."  
  
Again, her face warmed, but this time it was from his touch.  
  
***  
Willow attempted to stand, but the ground beneath her feet liquefied. She tried not to panic as she sank into the burbling soil. It closed over her head twice before she realized that struggling was only trapping her further. Instead of flailing, she forced her body into a position of relaxation: arms stretched out and head back as if she were floating in the ocean. Taking a deep breath, she allowed her legs to rise until her body lay suspended just below the surface of the quicksand. Once she was calm, she turned her head toward her attacker.  
  
"It's not too late to stop this, Raven."  
  
The only answer was harsh laughter. Suddenly, Willow felt the soil around her solidify. It pressed against her like a living thing. She was trapped.  
  
***  
Dawn was telling the truth. Buffy had neglected the house. There was only a sliver of soap in the bathroom and neither shampoo nor conditioner. She would have to make due. But the shard of Ivory slid from her wet fingers and disappeared down the shower drain. "Damn!" she cried.   
  
There's no other choice, Buffy told herself as she slipped back downstairs and grabbed a bottle from the dreaded box in the hall closet.  
  
As she squeezed shower gel onto a netted sponge, the scent of flowers filled the air. With the pleasant odor came unpleasant memories of Spike hurting her, trying to force himself on her in this very room.  
  
Buffy pushed back her fear. It was only liquid soap and some perfume, she chided herself. Using the sponge, she scrubbed off the last of the graveyard dirt and dried sweat. Then she squirted a handful of the shower gel into her hair. The liquid felt icy against her scalp and she shivered involuntarily. The sensation reminded her of Spike's cold fingers running through her hair.  
  
She shampooed quickly, forgoing a second lather. Since there was no conditioner, she was done. But the spray pounding against her shoulder blades was making it difficult to even think about leaving the shower.   
  
Then she heard the bathroom door open.  
  
Buffy shut off the water and fumbled for her towel. "Who is it?"  
  
She couldn't see clearly through the steam and the opaque shower door, but she thought a lithe figure slipped into the room.  
  
"Slayer."  
  
Spike. He was in the bathroom with her.   
  
"I've been calling you for two minutes. You couldn't hear over the water." The vampire complained. "Harris's truck just pulled up. Maybe he found the reversal spell."  
  
Buffy couldn't talk. Couldn't move.   
  
"Don't worry. I can't see anything." Spike chuckled. "It's all steamy in here. Smells good too." He leaned against the sink. "Jasmine, right?"  
  
He didn't wait for her to answer. "One year, Dru fell in love with the stuff. Twined it in her hair when she could get fresh blossoms. Then, she got a hold of a bottle of eau de toilet. She bathed in it until she smelled like a Calcutta brothel." His voice was low and heavy with sensuous memories. "Didn't peg you for the jasmine type, Slayer. You always smelled like vanilla to me."   
  
Was he aroused? She tried to scream, but all that came out was a strangled sound.  
  
"Are you okay?" Spike took a step toward the tub.  
  
Buffy saw his outline move and she shrank against the tile wall.  
  
"Summers, what's the matter." He came closer and somehow, she found her voice.   
  
"Get out!"   
  
The vampire hesitated. "I told you I can't see anything."  
  
"Get out! Get out!" Buffy screamed with a tone and volume that reminded her of Dawn's worse temper tantrums.  
  
Spike shook his head. "Fine, pet." When he turned to go, Xander's fist slammed into his jaw. Caught off guard, the vampire staggered a bit, but recovered in time to duck the next punch. He grabbed Xander's arm and twisted it behind the construction worker's back, slamming him face first into the mirror. The safety glass broke in a spider web pattern. They both bounced back and stared at the reflection of Xander, his body contorted in a strange position by an invisible force.  
  
"Wasn't I clear earlier?" Spike asked. "I'm happy to kick your ass, but it has to wait until the witch is put down. You agreed."  
  
"I didn't agree to let you touch Buffy!" Xander snarled.  
  
Spike laughed softly. So, the whelp knew about the snogging in the cemetery. He shook his head. "I'm surprised you told him, luv." He called to Buffy.  
  
"She didn't have to tell me, you bastard!" Xander spat. "I leave you alone with her for an hour and when I come back I find you trying to rape her."  
  
"Rape..." Spike echoed. "No!" In his shock, he loosened his grip on Xander. The larger man took the opportunity and threw all of his weight against the vampire. They crashed to the floor. Spike struck his head against the tiles. It wasn't hard enough to knock him out, but it did stun him long enough for Xander to grab the toilet plunger. He slammed the wooden handle against the sink and it splintered. Leaving a wicked looking, foot-long stake in Xander's hand.   
  
Spike looked up at the weapon and raised his arms defensively. "Buffy! Tell him. I didn't attack you. Not this time."  
  
"It's true." Buffy replied hoarsely. She slid back the shower door and looked at the two adversaries. "Spike came in to tell me that you were back." She swallowed. "He didn't try anything."  
  
Xander shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I should have done this the last time." He drew back his fist.  
  
The vampire slammed his arm into Xander's chest, knocking his attacker off. He sprang to his feet. Without looking over his shoulder, he spoke to Buffy. "I don't know what's going on, but the whelp intends to dust me. He can't do it, but I might have to hurt him bad if you don't call him off."  
  
As if to prove his point, Xander launched himself at Spike again. Like a bullfighter, the vampire slid out of the stake's way with an inch to spare. He grabbed Xander's wrist and squeezed until the man was forced to drop the stake. To the Spike's surprise, Xander caught it midair with his other hand and attempted another thrust. The vampire raised his arm to block it, but suddenly a pair of slender arms descended between their bodies, knocking Xander aside.  
  
"Enough you two!' Buffy snapped as she snatched the stake out of her best friend's hand.  
  
"You two?!" Spike panted indignantly. "He attacks me and I'm to blame for defending myself."  
  
"No. You're to blame for barging in here while I'm showering. Don't you know how to knock?"  
  
"I did knock." He retorted. "I knocked and I called, but you didn't answer."  
  
"So you thought you'd walk in?" Xander said sarcastically.  
  
Spike didn't say anything.  
  
"Did you really think that I'd ever want to be alone in this room with you after what you tried to do to me?" Buffy shivered. With the door open, the steam had fled, taking with it the room's warmth. The water dripping from her hair felt icy as it ran over her back and shoulders. But the chill wasn't what set her trembling. It was the look in Spike's eyes. Guileless. He honestly didn't know what his presence was costing her. "Go now, please."  
  
He stared at her for a long moment, clearly perplexed. Then, he brushed past Xander and walked to the door. There he pivoted to face Buffy and paused as if he were waiting for one of them to say something. But when it was clear that she refused to meet his eyes, he squared his shoulders and left.  
  
Xander walked over and shut the door. It locked with a click as loud as a gunshot in the too quiet bathroom.  
  
As the adrenaline fled her body, Buffy felt weak and nauseated. She slid down until she was crouched in the bottom of the tub. It was a graceless, vulnerable posture. And one, she knew, was probably flashing more than she ever wanted to show Xander. But she didn't care. She just felt weary and heart-sick. The stake dropped from her hand with a clatter against the wet porcelain. She closed her eyes and prayed that the world would go away.  
  
"Buffy?" Xander called to her as if from a great distance. But she could feel his gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up into his worried eyes.  
  
"Did Spike hurt you?"  
  
It's hard to shake your head when you're in a fetal position. Buffy sat up. "No." Her voice sounded shaky and unsure. Xander's eyes narrowed and slid toward the stake. She had to be stronger or else he might make a grab for it and go after Spike again.  
  
"I'm fine, Xander." She said firmly. Buffy hoped that saying it with that much conviction had to make it at least a little true. Wasn't her stomach roiling less now.  
  
"Buff, you don't look fine. You're..." Xander paused. In the seven years that he'd known The Slayer, he'd seen and done a lot of things that he never expected. Watching her huddle half-naked in a bathtub was not one he'd experienced before. So it was hard to put this eloquently. "You're a mess, Buffy. Spike might not have laid a hand on you tonight. But he did something to rattle you."  
  
She couldn't explain it. Even if she found the right words, she wasn't sure Xander would understand. No one could. Not unless they had ever been pinned to this bathroom floor by a master vampire intent on raping them.  
  
So she did the next best thing. "Help me up, Xander." He steadied her as she climbed out of the tub. Then, suddenly he dropped her arm and averted his eyes. Yeah, she'd flashed him, Buffy thought with a twinge of embarrassment. She turned her back and rearranged the towel. Poor Xander. She thought about asking him to leave, but she wasn't sure that she trusted him alone with Spike. Too many weapons in the house. Xander might not be physically strong enough to kill Spike now that the chip was inactive, but there were blades that could maim the vampire.  
  
It was ironic that she was worried about Spike's well-being. After all, what he'd done to her months earlier still had the power to reduce her to a shaking jelly. How ridiculous. She was the Slayer. Spike's attack had hurt her, but not badly. Only bruises. And those had quickly faded. She'd suffered far worse at the hands of other preternatural creatures. Humans, too, for that matter. No, the problem was in her head.   
Most of the time, she ignored Spike and thus, didn't have to think about the ordeal. When forced to deal with him, she made an effort to overlook all of the worst events of their shared past. And, there were even moments that she almost enjoyed the blond vampire's company.   
  
But, then, something would trigger a lingering fear. And it didn't have to be Spike personally. Everything from scented bath products to the sound of running water had sent her into a panic. What was a term from Professor Walsh's Psych class? Post traumatic stress disorder. Buffy wasn't positive what all the classic symptoms were, but she was pretty sure that paralyzing flashbacks qualified.  
  
"I'm fine, Xander." She repeated firmly. Then before he could disagree, she asked, "Did you find the reversal spell?"  
  
"Sort of..."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"I think found it, but it's in Latin. Remember, one of the many dead languages that I didn't take in high school."  
  
"Me, too." Buffy smiled.  
  
"So, it might be what we need. Or..." Xander's voice trailed off.  
  
"Or it could harm Dawn." she finished for him. 


	10. Chapter 10

Unmoved  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us"  
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com  
***  
She lay on velvet cushions in a silver boat that sped though a sea of blue silk. The boat had neither sails nor motor, but it skimmed over the water smoothly. It seemed as if she had been traveling forever, as if the sea was not just broad, but endless. On all horizons there was nothing but water. Above only the stars, like Christmas lights flickering against black satin.   
  
She was alone at yet unafraid. It was as if the dread of loneliness had been lifted from her here. Whereever here was.  
  
Dawn knew that she should be worried about the boat's final destination. Or why she was taking the voyage in the first place. But whenever she thought too hard about it, she felt slightly dizzy. And some small part of her mind was aware that she was caught in a dream. Her surroundings were just too beautiful to be real.  
  
So she lay against the cushions and watch the waves go by.  
  
***  
Willow could feel the ground reverberate with each step Raven took. The witch was pacing in a tight circle around her. Trapped in the soil, Willow was helpless and her panic soared each time Rack's twin paused and loomed over her. However, it seemed that Raven was unsure of the next step to take. Clearly, she had it within her power to finish Willow off now; but she was holding back.   
  
The redhead knew that she should use this hesitation to her advantage, but she couldn't speak. All the effort she could muster went into breathing. Her head lay above the ground, but the rest of her body was covered with several inches of hardened dirt. It was difficult to force air into her slightly compressed lungs. So, it was understandable that she didn't scream when a sudden gust of power rent the air behind the Raven.  
  
The black-haired witch whirled around just as two figures stepped through the portal. Willow forgot to breathe for a second as she recognized the new arrivals. "Anya! Halfrek!" she cried out.  
  
Raven narrowed her eyes at the two vengeance demons. "Do not interfere."  
  
Anya ignored the warning and darted to where Willow lay buried. She knelt and began digging in the hard soil to free her friend. "Are you okay?"  
  
Willow started to nod, then she called out a warning. "Watch out!"  
  
The 2X4 beam Raven swung narrowly missed Willow's head as it swung through the space Anya had just occupied. The vengeance demon rematerialized a yard away. "Sorry!" she said to Willow before dodging another blow.  
  
Halfrek grabbed Raven's arm and spun her around. Before the dark-haired witch could recover, Anya reached out and grabbed the piece of lumber from her hands. She threw it aside and stepped back. Raven turned and tried to charge her, but Halfrek stepped between them. She shoved the witch backwards to the ground and fell upon her. Raven shrieked as she wrestled with the curly-haired vengeance demon.  
  
While Halfrek and Raven grappled, Anya resumed digging. "Why isn't she using magick to fight us?" she asked Willow. The redhead tried to shrug, but only one shoulder was free. "I'm not sure." She said finally. "I thought she was reluctant to kill me, but now..." Her voice trailed off as she remembered something. "I think she's running down, Anya. I don't think she's used her power this much before."  
  
The vengeance demon freed Willow's left arm before she responded. "If so, how long before she'll need to recharge?"  
  
Willow scraped at the soil with one hand as she answered. "I don't know. It might be a day. Or only a few hours. Less if she finds another witch to drain." Her torso was free now and she sat up.  
  
"Why doesn't she just drain you?" Anya asked.  
  
"I don't know. Perhaps she just hadn't gotten around to it yet. She wasn't expecting to be interrupted." Willow smiled. "By the way, thanks for interrupting."  
  
"My pleasure." Anya brushed the last dirt away from Willow's right thigh and started on the left one. The two girls worked in silence for a few minutes until they had freed Willow completely from the soil. Anya helped her to her feet and the redheaded former witch stood there shaking as they surveyed the damage.  
  
Willow was covered in grime from head to toe. The dirt darkened her hair to a manure-brown hue. She had lost both shoes and her feet were already raw with blisters from the earlier run through the streets of Sunnydale.  
  
"Will you be able to run?" Anya asked softly.  
  
"Maybe." Willow took an experimental step forward and almost fell. "I don't suppose you can just teleport me out of here?"  
  
Anya shook her head. "No, sorry."  
  
Just then, there was a cry of triumph. Willow and Anya looked over in horror to see Raven rise from Halfrek's too-still body. The black-haired witch held a chunk of concrete in one hand. It was dark along one edge and dripping.  
  
"Hallie!" Anya cried. She rushed to her friend's side. Halfrek opened pain-filled eyes in ruined face. She took a deep-breath and the smashed side of her skull filled out. The bridge returned to her flattened nose. Only when her features were almost returned to normal did she try to speak. "Duck." she whispered through still-torn lips.  
  
"Wha..." Anya said just as the chunk of concrete smashed into the back of her head. She fell unconscious across Halfrek. The curly-haired vengeance demon looked up into Raven's smiling face. "I told you not to interfere."  
  
Halfrek swallowed. "I had to. I know your family. I could have stopped your brother years ago. I didn't. But I will stop you."  
  
"No, you won't. " Raven's voice was cold as she raised her arms. The chunk of concrete glittered in the moonlight as she brought it down with terrible force.  
  
Halfrek threw her arms around Anya and disappeared seconds before impact.   
  
Raven and Willow both looked around, but the vengeance demons did not reappear.  
  
"No!" Willow fell to the ground.  
  
Raven turned at the redhead's cry. "They have abandoned you."  
  
***  
  
Buffy picked the last strand of wilted shredded cabbage out of the fish taco and stared at the mess on her plate. While Xander and Spike fought, her reheated dinner was languishing in the oven. The corn tortilla was burned in spots, soggy in others. The fish was dried out beneath a hardened coating of guacamole, white sauce, and salsa. No spritz of lime was going to resuscitate it.  
  
She sighed and pushed the food away. Looking across the room, she caught Spike staring at her. She waited for him to say something; apologize for the ruined taco or try to convince her to follow her own advice and eat it for the sake of her strength. But, the vampire simply turned away.  
  
Now it was her turn to stare. Spike sat on the arm of the sofa, his back ramrod straight beneath the black leather duster. He held an unlit cigarette lightly in his left hand. She watched as he put it to his lips, remembered he couldn't smoke in the house, and let the hand fall again. Buffy knew that Spike would repeat the gesture endlessly -his version of nervous fidgeting.  
  
Part of her wanted to go to him and admit that she knew he hadn't tried to attack her just now. But she couldn't do it. The panic attack and the flashback that triggered it were too recent. And then, there was Xander.  
  
The construction worker was quietly seething. Despite Buffy's assurances that she was going to be okay, Xander was more convinced than ever that Spike was a clear and present danger to the Slayer. Buffy wasn't sure what prompted the post-crisis showdown the two men alluded to upstairs, but she knew that she couldn't let it happen. If the fight upstairs was any indication of the damage they were willing to do to each other, someone would die.  
  
For the zillionth time since the long night began, Buffy wished Giles was back from his trip. He would know if the spell Xander discovered would free Dawn from her magickal sleep. And he would figure out a way to keep the guys from killing each other.   
  
But the former Watcher was thousands of miles away. Somewhere in the rainforests of Southeast Asia where cell phones and laptops didn't work. There was no way to reach him save telepathy. And the one Scooby Gang member capable of that method had vowed to never resort to magick again.  
  
Buffy knew that Willow was serious about making her recovery work this time, but she hadn't realized until now that the ex-witch wouldn't use her powers to save herself. Willow might die because she refused to fight fire with fire.  
  
The only hope was the Clem's shield. If it was what Spike's friend claimed, the shield could save Willow from Ravessa's revenge.   
  
Waiting wasn't helping things. She had to go get the shield now.  
  
Just as Buffy stood up, a bright light filled the living room. She threw up an arm to shield her eyes. Was Ravessa attacking them?  
  
Then she heard Xander's horrified exclamation. "Oh, God! Anya!"  
  
Buffy dropped her arm and saw her friend cradling his unconscious girlfriend. "She'll be fine in a minute," a female voice said. Anya's friend, Halfrek straightened up and strode forward to meet Buffy.   
  
"We were attacked. I had to teleport us out of there." The curly-haired vengeance demon reported. "I'm sorry. I had to leave Willow behind."  
  
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. "Ravessa hasn't killed her yet."  
  
"Ravessa? Oh, that's what she's calling herself now." Halfrek sneered. "Her real name is Raven. She's Rack's sister."  
  
Buffy nodded. "We figured as much."  
  
"Then you know she's here for revenge." The ringleted demon gave a wry smile. "I'm not sure that D'Hoffryn will approve of this, but I'm going to help you."  
  
"We could use all the help we can get." Buffy said gratefully.  
  
"Buffy?" Anya's voice was weak as she called to her friend, but with Xander's help she sat up. "Raven was fighting us physically. Not using magick. Willow said that she was running out of power. We may have a while before she recharges."  
  
"Time enough to plan how we're going to fight her?" Xander asked.  
  
"Maybe." Anya signaled to Xander to pull her to her feet. She winced with the effort, but felt stronger -well, at least less helpless once she was standing. "Willow said it could be hours before Raven recovers. Or she could simply drain another witch. For all we know she might be siphoning Willow's power right now."  
  
No one wanted to imagine a vengeful witch with Willow's full power but sans the guilty conscience.  
  
"No time to plan." Buffy said grimly. "We need to move now. Xander, I need you to drive me to Clem's to pick up the shield."  
  
"Shield?"  
  
"I'll explain later. Anya, please stay here with Dawn. She's under a sleeping spell. Xander thinks he found the reversal spell, but it's in Latin. See if you can figure out if he's right. If it's the right one, use it. I don't want Dawn under Ravessa's, I mean Raven's power if we fail."  
  
"We won't fail." Spike spoke up from his perch on the sofa arm.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "You can't know that Clem's shield will really do what he claims."  
  
"It's not the shield that I have faith in. It's you. You'll find a way to beat Raven. You always do."  
  
Buffy stared at the vampire. Somehow, she knew that his words were more than a pep talk. Spike honestly believed that she would beat this foe. Looking around the room at the faces of her other friends, she saw the same confidence in her. She wished that she felt so assured.  
  
She continued. "Anya, use the spell if it's the right one."  
  
"And if it's not?"  
  
Buffy took a deep breath "If the spell isn't right, and we're not back in an hour, take Dawn and leave town. Go to LA." She ordered.  
  
"And then what?"  
  
The Slayer hesitated. "Find Angel. Do you know the hotel?"  
  
The vengeance demon thought for a moment. "The Hyperion?"  
  
"Yes. Wesley will figure out how to help Dawn and more importantly, you'll be safe there."  
  
"Not necessarily." Spike spoke up again.   
  
"What do you mean, Spike?"  
  
"The Watcher is no longer part of Angel Investigations. If Angel Investigations even exists any more. Last time I was there, the boss was AWOL. The Ice Princess too."  
  
"Cordy?" Xander took a step toward the vampire. "If you hurt her..."   
  
Buffy sighed and pushed her friend back. She turned towards Spike. "Explain."  
The Scoobies all stared at the vampire, but he had eyes for Buffy alone. "Nice try, Slayer. I told you all this before."  
  
Buffy lowered her eyes. It was true. She could hardly blame Spike. While the vampire had not been totally forthcoming about his activities between regaining his soul and arriving in Sunnydale, he had warned her that something was very amiss with Angel and his employees. Buffy had just been too preoccupied with her own situation to make the bus trip to LA to check things out.   
  
The Slayer ran her fingers through her hair. "Okay. Still, LA is safer than Sunnydale right now. And maybe Angel's back now. More importantly, if we're all...missing, Giles will head there."   
  
Buffy walked over to the closet and pulled out a cream and tan blanket coat. It was Joyce's, one of the few garments that the Summers' girls had kept after the funeral. It was too big for Buffy and not stylish enough for Dawn, but the sisters held onto the coat because it had been one of Mrs. Summer's favorites. Buffy pressed the soft wool to her face and inhaled deeply. More than a year after the mother's death, the coat still ever so faintly held Joyce's scent. At that moment, the young woman wanted nothing more than to sink to the living room floor and wrap herself in the coat, surround herself with this simulation of her mother's comforting presence.   
  
Instead, she steeled herself and dug into the capacious pockets until her hand closed around her mother's key chain. She pulled it out and tossed they keys to Anya. "Take my mom's car. Xander's been turning the engine over once or twice a week, so it should start."  
  
"There's a half a tank of gas, An. That should get you to LA." The construction worker added.  
  
Buffy knelt next to her sister and kissed her on the temple. The sleeping teen's expression did not change. The Slayer sighed and stood up.  
  
"Halfrek, where did you leave Raven and Willow?"  
  
"They're at the abandoned office complex on the north edge of town. Do you know it?"   
  
The blonde nodded.  
  
"Well, it's not there anymore. Raven destroyed it."  
  
Buffy's eyes widened for second as she contemplated the power the witch must have controlled to bring down a five-story office building. She swallowed. "Okay, the building is gone, but that's where they are."  
  
"Yes." Halfrek hesitated. "At least they were there a little while ago."  
  
"Please go back there. If they're still there, just try to keep Raven distracted. She might not be able to use magick right now, but she could still kill Willow. As soon as I have the shield, I'll come."   
  
"Okay." The vengeance demon raised her arms and prepared to teleport.  
  
"Wait!" Buffy called.  
  
Halfrek lowered her arms. "What is it?"  
  
"Take Spike with you."  
  
***  
  
Raven seemed to be in a stupor, but Willow continued to drag herself away from the witch. Each movement brought fresh pain as she cut her hands on bits of glass and other sharp debris from the building. She was leaving a trail of blood on the ground and she didn't care. Nothing mattered except getting as far from Raven as possible.  
  
Until Halfrek and Anya disappeared, Willow held out hope that she would be rescued by the Scoobies. Now, she knew that she was on her own. It was up to her alone whether she lived or died tonight.  
  
So, she continued her slow passage across the ground, hoping that she might find someplace to hide before Raven regained her power.  
  
***  
  
"So you didn't tell them."  
  
Spike shook his head in disgust. "Do you think I'm mad?"  
  
Halfrek's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank you."  
  
The vampire didn't reply.  
  
She stopped walking and looked at him. "I supposed that you're not revealing our little secret was less for my sake than your own."  
  
Spike kept walking. He didn't want to have this conversation right now. Actually, he didn't ever want to have it. For months, he had gone out of his way to avoid the vengeance demon. Now, they were paired together on the mission to save Red. Trust the Slayer to put him in an awkward position.  
  
Halfrek stared at the back of his white blond head. She didn't know why she cared if he told Anya and her friends. What could it possibly change?   
  
Yet, they both were concealing the truth.  
  
It was dangerous choice, keeping secret something that happened more than a century ago. If the truth came to light, it would seem less harmless for having been covered up. Of course, the consequences would not be equally shared. Especially, for the one who came clean first.  
  
Halfrek smiled. If they survived tonight, she might just consider a little heart to heart with her fellow vengeance demon and dearest friend.  
  
***  
Clem staggered out of bed. It was only a few short steps to the door, but he managed to trip over his saggy pajama bottoms twice. "I'm comin'. Hold your horses." he called out grumpily just before hitting his shin on the footstool to the recliner. "Owwww!"  
  
The pounding on the door continued.  
  
The floppy-eared demon squinted through the peephole. It was the Slayer and her friend Xander. Clem fumbled at the safety chain and yanked open the door. "What's a matter, Buffy?"  
  
The petite blonde smiled. "Sorry to wake you, but I need the shield, Clem."  
  
"Shield?" He tried to look puzzled and even scratched the top of his bald head. "What shield?"  
  
"That's what I keep asking." Xander said with more than a little annoyance.  
  
Buffy patted the demon on one saggy forearm. "Nice try Clem, but Spike told me."  
  
Clem smiled. "But I was convincing, right?"  
  
"Yeah," she lied.  
  
The demon's face lit up at the complement. "C'mon in."  
  
Buffy and Xander stepped into the small room. She wondered how Clem could conceal a kitten there, let alone a magickal shield.  
  
"So your friend Willow fell off the wagon again?" Clem called out as he rummaged in the closet.  
  
"No." The Slayer raised her voice above the din of Clem's searching to explain about Rack's sister. She was almost finished when the demon turned around with the shield. He handed it to Buffy with a grin.  
  
Her first thought was how disappointingly small it was -not much bigger than the lid to a good sized garbage can. Then, she realized that it was also incredibly beautiful. Every inch of the metal was ornately chased with figures and runes. At the center, within the span of a single hand, there was an entire battle scene. Wraith-like creatures fought with humans and saggy-skinned demons.  
  
Clem leaned forward. "That's the battle of Moc-ter-hargh."  
  
"Mock...tear...har...guh?" Buffy's throat felt raw just trying to reproduce the syllables.  
  
"Pretty close." Clem laughed.  
  
"What's this battle?" Xander didn't even try to say the name.  
  
"It ain't got a thing to do with the shield's power, but it was a favorite story of my seven times great-grandfather. Moc-ter-hargh was a fortress where the Akinom kept their prisoners during the war of Tangulrox." He pointed to the wraith-like figures. "Those are the Akinom. A filthy, cruel breed."  
  
Buffy started to tell Clem that there was no time for war stories, but some wistful note in the demon's voice stopped her. "Tagulrox was the first war where humans allied with my kind. Sadly, it was also the last. You humans grew powerful afterwards. As your numbers increased, you forgot that not all demonkind was evil. In every battle afterwards, you saw us as foes. The Great Alliance would never happen again."  
  
"Until now, Clem." Buffy said softly.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"We're allies. You're giving me the shield to fight Raven and maybe you'll come out with us?"  
  
The demon blinked back sudden tears. "Really, Buffy?"  
  
She smiled. "Really."  
  
Clem whooped. "A modern day battle of Moc-ter-hargh! May we prevail as our ancestors did." He grinned at Buffy. "Y'know, the Alliance forces slew the Akinom host and displayed their heads on pikes festooned with the villains' own entrails."  
  
Buffy tried not to make a face.  
  
Clem continued. "Oh, and they freed all the prisoners."  
  
Xander hated to interrupt this warm and fuzzy moment, but he was dying of curiosity. "So what does this shield do?'  
  
"It can ward off magickal blows." Buffy said.  
  
"More than that." Clem said. "It'll absorb a witch's power."  
  
Xander was impressed. He reached out to touch the shield.  
  
It hummed suddenly and the construction worker snatched his hand back. Buffy and Clem stared at Xander. "It bit me." He said incredulously. He held out his right hand for their inspection. His fingers were badly reddened.  
  
"It didn't bite you. That's a burn." Buffy said. "Go run it under some cold water in the sink." The blonde watched him go then she turned to Clem. "Spike said that the shield would burn him because of all the people he's enjoyed killing. Xander hasn't murdered anyone."  
  
Clem stared at Xander suspiciously. "Not yet."  
  
Buffy shook her head emphatically. "Clem, this is Xander. He's my best friend. I know him. He's not going to murder anyone. That's why he left Anya at the altar. He couldn't bear the thought of doing what he saw in the vision. The shield must be broken."  
  
"No," Clem said with certainty. "It's fine, but your friend ain't. He's got murder in his heart."  
  
Xander came back clutching his dripping hand to his chest. "I have what in my what?"  
  
The demon took a step back from him. "You wanna kill someone."  
  
"No you don't." Buffy said as Xander stared at Clem in horror. "C'mon," she ordered. "We're leaving. The shield's obviously broken. We can't use it. We're just wasting time."  
  
"Wait, Buffy. It ain't broken." Clem protested. "Think about it. We both handled the shield. Neither of us got burned. Only Xander."  
  
"Maybe it was a fluke," Xander said and reached forward with his left hand.  
  
This time, Buffy actually saw a blue light arc out to envelop her friend's arm. Xander yelped in pain. She handed the shield to Clem and looked at Xander's hand. It was even more badly burned than the other. Whitish blisters stood out against the angry red skin on the palm.  
  
She dropped his hand in disgust. "You want to kill him. You want to kill Spike."  
  
Xander looked away.  
  
"I can't believe you, Xander. We're struggling to find a way to save Willow from a murderer and you're planning on killing Spike. How do you justify that?"  
  
"How do you justify letting him live?" Xander shot back. "How many times does he have to try to rape you before you put a stake through his heart?"  
  
"Spike didn't try to rape me tonight, Xander. He just came in to tell me that you were back and I wigged out."  
  
Buffy could tell from the look on Xander's face that he wasn't convinced. She shook her head. "I've known you for six years. I never thought that you were capable of murder."  
  
"Um," Clem interrupted. "Now that we know the shield ain't broken, shouldn't we go save Willow."  
  
It made sense. It was the first thing that made sense to Buffy since the shield burned Xander. She nodded. "Let's go."  
  
Xander shook his head. "Sorry, my hands hurt too much to handle the wheel, Buffy. Maybe Clem can drive you."  
  
She turned to the floppy-eared demon. He shook his head, "I never learned how to drive. The people at the DMV freaked out every time I came in for a permit. Sorry, Buffy."  
  
"It's okay, Clem. I can run." She picked up the shield and headed out the door. Suddenly, she turned, "Go back to the house. See if Dawn is okay."   
  
Xander and Clem watched her blonde ponytail disappear down the stairs. Then they were alone.  
  
"So you wanna kill Spike." Clem said in a low, menacing tone that Xander had never heard before.  
  
"Um..."  
  
***  
  
Dawn started awake as the boat shuddered. She opened her eyes to see Anya seated across from her. The vengeance demon smiled. "Good, you're awake. The spell worked. No need to thank me. It was really quite easy if you know Latin."   
  
The teen sat up. "What happened?"  
  
"Raven put a sleeping spell on you and then she chased Willow through the streets of Sunnydale. Right now she's run out of power, but if she finds a witch to drain, she kill Willow and then come back to finish the rest of us off. We probably have a few hours left to live."   
  
For once, Dawn was glad for Anya's characteristic bluntness. She was about to ask about the others when Anya continued.  
  
"We're not supposed to worry though because Spike went to stop Raven while Xander takes Buffy to get a magickal shield from Clem."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"I said, 'we're not supposed to worry..."  
  
"No, about Spike and Buffy! They're alive?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
To Anya's dismay, Dawn burst into tears and fell into her arms.  
  
"There, there," the vengenance demon said awkwardly. She made an attempt to stroke the teen's hair, but Anya's comforting skills were rusty from a millennium of disuse.   
  
"Ow!" Dawn cried and pulled away after one exceptionally hard pat on the head.   
  
"Why did you think your sister and Spike were dead?"  
  
"Raven said she killed them. She tricked Buffy into taking Spike back to the crypt and she blew it up." Dawn took a long, sobbing breath. "Are you sure they're okay?"  
  
"Yes. Well, at least they were when they left here a half an hour ago. Hey! Where are you going?"  
  
The younger Summers was at the front door. "I'm going to help."  
  
Anya shook her head. "No. We're supposed to stay here if I woke you up."  
  
"What if you hadn't?"  
  
"Buffy said to take you to Angel's hotel in LA."  
  
Anya's words sent chills down Dawn's back. Buffy never turned to her former love for help. Dawn didn't understand her sister's reticence. Angel might have made a crucial difference in the Slayer's battles with Glory and Willow, but she never gave him a chance. In fact, she often bristled at the suggestion that they call the brooding vamp. It added considerably to Dawn's alarm that her sister would call upon his aid now.  
  
"So, it's sit here and wait or go running to Angel?" The teen asked miserably.  
  
Anya nodded.  
  
"Great."  
  
The look on Anya's face echoed the sentiment.   
  
"So, how do want to while away the time while we wait to see if we live or die." Dawn said bitterly.  
  
Anya brightened. "We could color your hair. It only takes 10 minutes."  
  
Before Dawn could nix that idea, there was a sound on the porch. Footsteps.  
  
The girls looked at each other fearfully as the door swung open.   
  
"Xander!" Anya flew into her boyfriend's arms. "What are you doing back? Where's Buffy? Was the shield a fake?"  
  
"No," a familiar voice chuckled. Clem stepped into the hallway. "It works fine, right Xander?  
  
The carpenter held up his bandaged hands. "I ran into a bit of trouble. I can't drive so Buffy took the shield and went off on foot."  
  
Anya gingerly unwrapped the gauze on Xander's left hand. She stared in disbelief at the burn. "What happened?"  
  
The construction worker looked sheepish, but Clem stepped into the breach. "He wanted to kill Spike so the shield burned him."  
  
"Huh?" Dawn stared at Clem.  
  
"I'll explain later," Xander said. "Meanwhile, I need you to drive."  
  
"Are we going to find Buffy?" Dawn asked.  
  
"No. I mean, we are, but you have to stay here. It's too dangerous." He said firmly.  
  
The teen stamped her foot. "It's not fair! Everyone gets to help, but me."  
  
"I know how you feel, Dawnie." Clem said soothingly. "I was gonna go with your sister and fight at her side. It wouldda been a new Great Alliance. Another battle of Moc-ter-hargh. Then Xander decided to murder Spike so now, I'm gotta stay with you."  
  
Dawn blinked. "Again, huh?"  
  
***  
  
Raven stared sullenly at the approaching figures. Her lip curled in disgust as she realized that the taller individual was the vampire she thought she'd killed. She tried to summon the energy to send one of the many nearby shards of wood flying his way, but she was too drained to attempt it. So, she settled for standing up and glaring at him evilly.  
  
Spike ignored Raven as he walked toward a large pile of debris. Judging by the marks on the ground, the vampire suspected that Willow had managed to drag herself into a little hiding space created by debris from the fallen building. If so, the battered and exhausted girl had concealed herself so cleverly that even Spike's excellent vision might have missed her. Instead, the vampire relied on the smell of fear and Willow's unique scent. He carefully pulled aside several large pieces of fallen sheetrock to reveal her. The redheaded former witch was curled up with her badly scraped knees pressed to her forehead. She shuddered.  
  
The vampire squatted and spoke in a soft voice. "Hey, Red. It's safe to come out."  
  
Willow shook her head. "You're just a trick. A ghost or a glamour. Raven killed you and Buffy."  
  
Spike laughed, but his voice was serious. "She tried. Blew up the crypt, but we weren't in it."  
  
Willow lifted her head and looked at the vampire. "It's really you? And Buffy's okay?"  
  
He nodded and she sobbed with relief.  
  
Spike stood and held out his hand for Willow to take. "Come on. Let's get away from the bitch before she finds her strength."  
  
"I can't." She gestured toward her feet.  
  
Spike looked. Willow's feet were dirt-covered, but he could clearly see that they were scraped raw and oozing bloody lymph. The scent of Willow's blood had been present all along, but the sigh of it made the skin across his forehead prickle with anticipation of the change from his human mask. Spike's soul pitied Willow for her injuries, but his demon gloried in them.   
  
Feet bled so much, the vampire thought to himself You could coax torrents from relatively shallow wounds on the soles. Angelus had taught him that firsthand.   
  
As Spike stared at Willow's feet, a fresh trickle of blood made its way from instep to arch. The red streak was muted against the grime. But the vampire could envision it in bright scarlet contrast to clean white skin.   
  
The former witch had graceful feet. Neither too narrow or too broad, with high arches and straight toes. Her second toes were longer than the first, the mark of sensuality and intelligence. The ancient Greeks considered this a sign of great beauty.  
  
Currently, Willow's toenails were chipped and lined with dirt from her ordeal. But Spike had seen them in past clean and neatly trimmed. Once, even polished a translucent barely there pink. They had gleamed innocent yet erotic as they peeked from her sandals..  
  
Yes, Spike's demon whispered, it would be a pleasure to bleed those feet, to do it slowly and with art. Perhaps, prick the balls and watch her life force pool in the ivory cups of her arches.   
  
For a moment, the bloodthirst had Spike in its grasp. Then, he steadied himself. "I'll carry you."  
  
Before Willow could protest, the vampire bent to scoop her up. He figured she'd be heavier than Buffy, but he could easily carry her away from Raven. As a master vampire, he could carry twice Willow's weight and still run an entire night without tiring. He would have too, if the iron bar hadn't connected with the back of his skull.  
  
Spike fell heavily to the ground beside Willow. The redhead looked up in dread. Raven loomed over them. The witch's face was strangely swollen on one side, but she looked better than she had for the entire past hour. Her power was slowly returning. "I had a little pick-me-up." She said in a hoarse, but menacing voice.  
  
The black-haired witch stepped aside and Willow could see a figure lying crumpled on the ground. She could just make out a head of dusty dark curls.   
  
"Halfrek!" Willow cried. The redhead's fear increased. She didn't know that Raven could siphon the power from demons or any non-witches for that matter.  
  
Raven laughed knowingly at the look on Willow's face. "I didn't know that I could do that either. But, necessity, as they say..." The witch's voice was cut off by a sudden whine and loud thud. Raven gasped and clutched her leg. She stared in disbelief at the blood seeping between her fingers. Then she jerked and howled in pain as a second missile struck her on the shoulder.  
  
There was a scrabbling sound from a hill of rubble six or seven yards away. Both Raven and Willow turned toward it and saw Anya standing beside a pile of fist sized rocks. The vengeance demon pulled back the slingshot a third time, but now Raven was ready.  
  
The witch sent a shower of broken glass toward her attacker. Anya teleported just outside the ring of impact and sent the rock spinning toward the black-haired young woman. This one caught Raven squarely in the chest and knocked her down.  
  
While Raven lay gasping for air, Anya stood a safe distance away with the next rock ready. But Xander emerged from a nearby pile of debris. He ran over to Willow and embraced her.  
"Oh, God, Wil."  
  
"Runaway, Xander. Take Anya and go. I can't walk. My feet are hurt."  
  
Xander looked at Willow's feet and winced. "I know. I saw Spike staring at them like they were an appetizer."  
  
Willow didn't seem to hear him. "What happened to your hands?"  
  
"Long story. Later." He darted a quick look at Raven. The witch was sitting up now, but she still seemed to have trouble breathing. "Look, I can't carry you in my arms because of my hands, but I can give you a piggy-back ride if you can hold on yourself."  
  
Willow laughed despite herself. "You haven't given me a piggy-back ride in years."  
  
"Then, let's remedy that."  
  
Xander knelt and Willow clambered on. The young man straightened up and took a few experimental steps. "Okay. It's only a short distance to the car. Can you drive?"  
  
"Yeah, it's just my feet that are hurt badly."  
  
"Good. Then, Anya can keep Raven at bay until we're out of here."  
  
Willow nodded, then she cried, "Wait!"  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Willow pointed to the unconscious vampire. "We can't leave Spike."  
  
"The hell we can!" Xander roared.  
  
"Xander, he tried to save me." Willow reasoned.   
  
"No."   
  
"Okay, then I'm not going." She let go of Xander's shoulders and slithered down his back to the ground.   
  
Her best friend turned and stared at her in amazement. He expected this sort of behavior from Dawn, even Buffy, but not his Willow. But the look in her eyes was clear. Willow wouldn't budge unless he promised to help the vampire.  
  
"Okay," Xander exhaled. "I'll come back for him after I get you to the car."  
  
The redhead gave him a dubious look.  
  
"Really." He said in the most convincing tone he could muster.  
  
"Get him to safety first."  
  
Xander wished he could just pick Willow up and sling her over his shoulder, but his burned hands precluded the caveman option. He stared at the vampire. "He's still out. I can't pull him up. The best I can do is kick his ass all the way to the car."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes and crawled over to the unconscious vampire. She slapped his cheeks and he groaned as he opened his eyes. The redhead peered at them. One pupil was dilated, but far from fully blown. Satisfied, she sat back. "I think you have some bleeding inside your skull, Spike, but I know your body can fix that."  
  
He tried to nod his head and groaned again.  
  
"Xander's going to help you up and get you to the car."  
  
The vampire glared, with the larger pupil giving an even more sinister effect to the angry stare. "I'll crawl first," he snarled.  
  
"Fine with me." Xander said flatly.  
  
Willow looked from man to man, then her expression changed. "Anya! No!"  
  
The trio turned to see Anya set down the slingshot and walk toward the black-haired witch.  
  
"What are you doing, Anya?" Xander cried with alarm.  
  
"Raven's got her under some sort of mind control spell." Willow explained. "You've got to stop her Xander. She'll got to her and then Raven will drain her power."  
  
Xander was already running toward Anya. His girlfriend moved to evade him, but in her bespelled state she couldn't teleport. Soon, she grew frustrated with dodging and hit him. As a demon, Anya was more powerful than her human form indicated, but Xander bore the blow well.   
  
"Stop, honey!" He pleaded.   
  
Her answer was a fist to his ribs.   
  
Xander heard the crack before the first pain. He gritted his teeth and grabbed Anya's arms before she could strike again. The contact made his burned palms sing with agony and he felt as if the skin was sliding off his fingers, but he held on as they grappled.  
  
"Watch yer balls, mate!" Spike called out moments before Anya tried to smash her knee into Xander's crotch. The construction worker twisted away. The movement set them both off balance and they fell to the ground. Xander wanted to take the brunt of the fall, but instinct told him that he could not afford to allow Anya any advantage. So he leaned his weight toward her and used it to help keep the struggling vengeance demon from making her way toward Raven.  
  
Rack's twin screamed in frustration. Then she turned and stared balefully at Willow and Spike. The witch gestured with her right hand. A forest of wooden poles came shuddering our of nearby piles of rubble and stood at attention.  
  
Willow swallowed. "You'd better go, Spike. Run if you can."  
  
The vampire shook his head. "No," he whispered. "She wants me to run so she can kill you."  
  
" No. I don't think she has enough power yet to kill me. Not the way she wants to. Why else would she try to drain Anya?" The redhead swallowed. "But she probably can send those spears your way."  
  
"I'll take my chances." The vampire said grimly.  
  
"Then, we stand."   
  
The pair struggled to stand. Willow clung to Spike, allowing the vampire to support her so that less weight was on her damaged feet.  
  
Raven cupped her hands and the air above the witch's palms seemed to ripple. "You're familiar with this one, Willow." She taunted.   
  
The redhead watched as the distortion took the form of flames. They danced evilly, curling white hot around Raven's fingers without searing her. "The seeking fire," laughed the black-haired witch.  
  
Willow stared in horror. She had sent this very magick after Jonathan and Andrew, not caring if it destroyed Xander and Dawn as well. If the fireball had caught them, the heat would have scalded the flesh from their bones instantly. Perhaps was fitting that it should end her life now. She closed her eyes and steeled her shoulders. "Run, Spike!"  
  
However, the vampire remained in front of Willow. He didn't know if his preternatural flesh was enough to shield her completely from the heat. He just couldn't think of any other way to try to save her. Willow realized his intent and grappled with him, but Spike was strong enough to hold his place in front of her.  
  
In the seconds before the seeking fire hit, when it was so close that he could feel himself beginning to smoke, Spike saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes. It was Buffy. She dashed between them and swung the shield up.   
  
The metal sang with the impact, but true to Clem's word, it held. The flames were absorbed instantly. Buffy dropped the shield with a cry. The metal was vibrating so hard it hurt to hold it. She watched in amazement as the figures chased on the design seemed to move. Buffy could have sworn that she heard the sound of metal clashing on metal amid battle cries. One exceptionally loud shriek rent the air and she turned to see Raven writhing in the dirt.  
  
Bright beams of light shot from the witch's mouth, nose, eyes, and ears. These streams of energy were sucked into the shield which continued to hum and vibrate. Buffy's gaze ricocheted between Raven and the shield, where each frieze of tiny silvery figures waged their miniature melee.  
  
At last, the battle scene slowed its motion and the lights died away. Raven slumped on the ground, weeping.  
  
It was over.  
  
***  
  
Buffy sat on a low pile of debris and watched Anya truss Raven's hands with Xander's belt. The construction worker offered verbal assistance as Willow examined his unbandaged hands.  
  
There was a creaking of the rubble as Spike sat next to Buffy.  
  
"You stood in front of Willow." she said quietly. "You would have died."  
  
"Nah," the vampire shrugged. "I knew you'd save us both."  
  
"No you didn't. I saw your face. You were ready to die to save her."  
  
"You've lost so much." He started to reach out, as if to caress her face and then stopped himself. "I couldn't stand to see you grieve again."  
  
Buffy closed her eyes. "Willow, Dawn, even you. You all could have died because I was so wrapped up in myself."  
  
"You wouldn't have let that happen."  
  
"No?" She made a harsh sound and buried her head in her hands. When her small frame shook, Spike realized Buffy was crying.   
  
"Hey, it's okay, luv. Everyone's okay." He hesitated, wanting to take her in his arms, and then patted her on the knee instead. She sobbed harder and, to his shock, laid her head on his shoulder. "Hey," he repeated.  
  
"Hey," said a male voice.  
  
Spike looked up and stiffened. Xander stood in front of them.  
  
The vampire moved away from Buffy and stood up warily. His head hurt. He was tired. But if it was time to finish things with the whelp he wasn't going to back down.  
  
Buffy shook her head in disbelief. Why couldn't they just put their animosity aside for one night. "Xander," she said warningly.  
  
"I just wanted to say..." Her best friend's voice trailed off. "That is..." He stooped and reached toward the shield at Buffy's feet.  
  
"No!" she shouted and reached out to block him.  
  
But the construction worker was faster for once. Buffy stared in amazement as Xander picked up the shield and held it awkwardly. Though he was obviously in discomfort, the pain seemed to come from his old injuries, not fresh burns.  
  
"Does that mean..."  
  
Xander shrugged. "For now."  
  
She smiled. "Thank you."  
  
He shook his head. "I saw what happened. He earned it." Xander handed Buffy the shield and started to walk away. Then, he turned back and fixed Spike with a hard stare. "For now."  
***  
  
Clem's large ears weren't for decoration alone -he heard the car first. But it was Dawn who ran to the door and greeted the returning warriors. Her tears sprinkled each of them in turn, but her embraces were longest and tightest for her sister and Spike.  
  
After everyone had expressed their joy at a safe reunion, the mood turned somber again. "What now?" Spike tilted his head to indicate Raven.  
  
Rack's twin was hunched over, muttering to herself quietly. Once they confirmed that the shield had absorbed all her magickal power, Buffy had untied the black-haired witch's hands. The young woman stared at them now as if they were covered in blood.  
  
Buffy bit her lip in uncertainly. "I think she's harmless for now, but we have to find somewhere to send her."  
  
"Wales," Willow said softly. "We should send her to the Druidic center in Wales."  
  
'She's not addicted to magick, Wil." Xander said.  
  
"I know. But the center isn't just for rehab. They help people learn how not to use their power." The redhead explained. "What do you think, Buffy?"  
  
"I don't know. I wish Giles was here." The blonde smiled sheepishly. "Look, it'll have to wait anyway. It's time we got you and Xander to a hospital."  
  
The two wounded friends protested, but at last Anya drove them away into the first rays of morning light.  
  
Clem offered to help Spike and Buffy guard Raven, but the Slayer sent him home with the shield and many thanks.   
  
Dawn tried to stifle a yawn, prompting a laugh from her sister. "You slept for hours, Dawnie. How can you be tired?"  
  
"I don't know." The teen said sleepily. She hugged Buffy and Spike again before heading upstairs.  
  
Finally, it was just the two of them if you didn't count the gibbering idiot of a witch crouched on the sofa. Slayer and vampire looked at each other silently. For a moment, Spike thought Buffy was going to say something to him. But, instead she moved away toward the stairs. "I'm going to call LA. See if I can find out what's going on. Keep an eye on Raven."  
  
Spike sat down on the easy chair and put his boots on the coffee table, noting with perverse pleasure the clump of dirt that fell off onto the polished surface. He pulled out a cigarette and rolled it between his fingers, debating whether or not to further risk Buffy's ire by smoking inside the house.  
  
"Why not?" said a low voice from the sofa.  
  
The vampire didn't turn his white blond head. "So you were faking."  
  
"Not completely," Raven said. "My powers are gone."  
  
"But you aren't mad."  
  
She shrugged. "I haven't really been sane since Rack killed our mother. Hating someone and loving them at the same time isn't good for your mental health." She smiled cruelly. "I have to remember to tell Buffy that."  
  
Spike glared at the witch. "Leave her alone."  
  
"Or you'll kill me?" It was less a taunt, than a plea.  
  
The vampire didn't answer.   
  
"Why haven't you killed me yet?" Raven complained. "I took the memories from Willow's head. I know that's what you do with your enemies when you defeat them."  
  
Spike ignored the witch as he put the cigarette to his lips. He slumped further in the chair and dug for his lighter.  
"I thought that it would bring me peace." Raven said bitterly. "Instead, I'm still seething, still in pain."  
  
Spike "You'll never find peace here. You should have stayed away from Sunnyhell."  
  
She turned haunted eyes to him. "Why didn't you?"  
  
He laughed, a short, angry sound. "Touché."  
  
Raven stopped pacing. "What are they going to do with me?"  
  
Spike shrugged. He honestly didn't know.  
  
"They'll put me behind magickal walls. Perhaps right here on the Hellmouth. Imprison me forever." The dark-haired witch began panting "I can't bear that." She raked her hands down her cheeks, making scarlet marks appear.   
  
For the second time that night, Spike was confronted by bloody wounds. He steeled himself. Buffy would be back any minute. He would have died before she saw him in game face over the blood of this witch.  
  
Raven seemed to sense his struggle. "You're a poor excuse for a vampire. Doesn't blood rouse you anymore." She scratched herself again and the blood flowed freely now.  
  
He turned away.   
  
She laughed. "No one would mind if you had a taste."  
  
No, he thought. They wouldn't at that. In fact, Buffy might be relieved if he tore out Raven's throat. Hadn't she asked as much of him a fortnight ago. The bloodthirst was fully awakened now. But could he do it. Now that the immediate danger was passed, could he bear another soul -no matter how evil-on his conscience?  
  
"Belt up, Witch." He said in a low, dangerous voice.  
  
"Or maybe, it just takes more than a few drops. Maybe a torrent then."  
  
The sound shocked him. Had it been so long since he had heard air escaping from a slit throat? He rushed to put his hand over the wound, but she had managed to cut through both major vessels. "Buffy!" he yelled as Raven's life pumped out between his fingers. By the time the Slayer arrived to see the knife fall from the dark-haired witch's hand, it was too late.  
  
***  
Continued in "Unmoved: the Epilogue" 


	11. Epilogue

Unmoved  
By iyaorisha  
  
Timing: AU S7  
  
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)  
  
Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?   
  
("Unmoved" is the sequel to "Look What Love Gave Us" and the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)  
  
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.  
  
Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us".  
  
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS or AtS characters or the world they inhabit belong to me. They belong to Joss and I promise to put them back when I'm done playing with them.  
  
Author's Note: I want to thank everyone who R&Rd this fic, including my DH.   
  
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com   
  
***  
Epilogue:  
  
The fluid in the white enameled basin was carmine and viscous. It had turned everyone off breakfast -everyone, but Spike of course. The vampire downed a second glass of fresh pigs' blood while watching Willow surreptitiously. The former witch slipped her feet into the herbal bath, wincing as the liquid stung her wounds.   
  
The footbath was a thrice-daily routine to aid the healing process. The more Spike watched it, the less he was enthralled with Willow's feet. In the mundane surroundings of the Summers' kitchen, they were just ordinary feet. Not remotely erotic, even while immersed in a basin of blood-colored liquid. The vampire was simultaneously relieved and disappointed by the transformation.   
  
Meanwhile, Willow always seemed happy for the company as she treated her injuries. The prescribed soaking times always seemed to coincide with meals and the herbal infusion's similarity in color to blood made Buffy and Dawn squeamish. So, for the fourth day in a row since Raven's death, it was just Willow and Spike at the kitchen table.  
  
Until now, they hadn't spoken of the events of that terrible, seemingly endless night.   
  
Willow had returned from the hospital shortly after 9 AM to find Spike ripping up the carpet in the living room. The vampire wore dried blood and an angry scowl on his face. Buffy sat on the sofa next to a sheet-wrapped object with the unmistakable shape of a human body. At the time, Willow was too loopy from painkillers to do more than ask "Raven?" and then limp upstairs after Buffy's weary nod.   
  
That night, as she prepared to bury Raven, Buffy had tendered a terse explanation. Willow knew only that Rack's twin sister had first taunted the vampire to kill her, and then when he refused, committed suicide in some horrifically bloody manner.   
  
As for Spike, he didn't care to share with anyone the moment when Buffy had come running to find him blood-drenched crouching over Raven's body. The look on her face -an "Omigod, Spike what have you done" look-- had lasted only a second, but it was still causing him pain. Never mind that it was Buffy herself who eventually found the piece of metal in Raven's now slack hand. (It was no bigger than a guitar pick, but razor sharp along one edge. The black-haired witch must have hidden it in her mouth.)   
  
So the vampire and former witch usually sat in silence or talked of trivial matters -Dawn getting her learner's permit was a pretty safe topic and one of endless amusement. Thus, it was a surprise when Willow said quietly "I never thanked you for saving me."  
  
Spike shook his head. "I didn't save you. Buffy saved both of us."  
  
The redhead laid a hand on his arm. "But you tried. You stood in front of me when Raven flung the seeking fire."  
  
He made a dismissive gesture and got up for another glass of blood.  
  
Willow knew that Spike wanted to drop the topic, but it was as if a dam had broken. "Better be careful," she said lightly. "You keep saving people Buffy loves and she might start trusting you."  
  
The vampire's face was hidden by the refrigerator door, but she saw his back stiffen. "I didn't do it to earn Buffy's trust." He said softly.  
  
"Oh," Willow stammered, "I was just teasing, Spike. I know that you weren't trying to score brownie points with Buffy when you saved me. But, hey, would it be so awful a side effect?"  
  
Spike shrugged as he sat back down. "Trust is overrated."  
  
She stared at him aghast. "How can you say that?"  
  
The vampire lifted one dark eyebrow. "Trust is what got you in that mess that other night, Red. Your good friend Ravessa, new in town and oh, so understanding of your feelings." He mocked gently. "She had your trust. Good use she made of it, too. Half killed the lot of us."   
  
"But that's because she misused it." Willow protested.   
  
Spike leaned forward. "Evil will always misuse trust. It's a great weapon." His voice grew cold. "A favorite of mine when I was fledgling. Most of my early victims 'trusted' me. A missionary trusted me enough to follow me into an opium den in search of my dear sister. I tore his throat out not two steps past the threshold. A lost little girl trusted me to get her safely home to her grandmother. She put her little arms around my neck and I picked her up. When she snuggled against me, I drained her." He paused. "That's what trust gets you, Red."  
  
Willow shook her head. "Not all trust is misplaced."  
  
He gave her a "get-real" look.  
  
"I can't walk through life that paranoid. I won't." The former witch insisted.  
  
"Then, some Big Bad will have itself a right good time with you one day." He said grimly. Then, he stood up and stared at the window. Since the panes were covered with blackout curtains, there was nothing to see. But his gaze never waved. A clear "leave me alone" signal.  
  
Willow knew that she should change the topic, but she was seized with a strange compulsion to push Spike into admitting that he wanted Buffy to trust him. "A few months ago, it might have scared me to hear you say that."  
  
He turned and looked at her, puzzled. "Why doesn't it scare you now?"  
  
"Because I've been the Big Bad. When I went all EvilWillow, I had access to power beyond any human reckoning." She paused, shivering even now with the memory of dark magicks coursing through her whole being like a drug. "My friends fought me, but they didn't turn against me. Do you see the difference?"  
  
Spike shook his head.  
  
"Buffy, Giles, all the Scoobies wanted to stop me. But not just to save Jonathan and Andrew. Or even to save the whole world. They wanted to save me, too. See, they believed that there was something deep inside EvilWillow worth saving. A Willow that they could trust again. If they hadn't believed that, the surest way to save everyone else would have been to kill me."  
  
The vampire looked more confused than before.  
  
"Spike, how many times have you fought Buffy?"  
  
He shrugged, not sure if he should count every sparring match or only the times that they really intended to do each other damage. Finally, he settled. "Too many bloody times to count."  
  
"How many of those times could she have killed you, but walked away instead?"  
  
A reel of memories ran through his head. Yes, countless times she'd spared him. For years, he saw it as a serious personal weakness for a Slayer.   
  
Willow's voice intruded on his thoughts. "I think that unconsciously Buffy thought that there was something worth saving in William the Bloody. A man that she could trust."  
  
"Yeah," he scoffed. "Milquetoast William the poet."  
  
"No," said a voice from the doorway.   
  
Spike and Willow turned their heads to see Buffy standing there, a pile of mail held loosely in one hand.  
  
"I haven't spared you because I was looking for William," she said. "He died in some London alleyway well over a century ago."   
  
The vampire closed his eyes. He heard the scrape of a chair moving backwards and the slap of wet feet on the floor as Willow left the room. But the musky sweetness of vanilla told Spike that Buffy had stayed. The scent grew stronger as she moved slowly closer. He didn't dare breathe as she laid a small hand against his chest.  
  
"If there's someone in there worth my trust, it'll have to be Spike," Buffy said softly.  
  
He swallowed and opened his eyes, but she was gone.  
  
***  
The little girl was lost, but she didn't know it yet. The streets all tended to look the same in this area, and the approaching dusk made it harder to make out far away landmarks. So, she kept walking even though each step took her further and further away from both her own home and her grandmother's house. Only when she came to the little square did Deira realize that she had gone astray. By then, it was too late.  
  
Charlotte Madeira Layton, age 6 and 1/2, had run away from home. At first, it seemed like a good idea, an adventure even. But now, she was lost.  
  
She sat on a bench and began to cry.  
  
"There, there my darling, dry your tears."  
  
Deira looked up in surprise. A man stood at her side, offering a neatly folded handkerchief in one hand.   
  
Her mother had warned her not to talk with strangers. But the man seemed kind. His blue eyes were full of concern and his voice was soft, unlike her stepfather's.  
  
She reached out to take the handkerchief from him, but he hunkered down instead and gently wiped her face. "Now, why is such a pretty girl crying?"  
  
She opened her mouth, but she didn't know where to begin. The man waited patiently, his gentian eyes full of concern. Finally, Deira shook her head shyly.  
  
"Let me guess, you're lost?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Well, that won't do at all." The man said kindly. "There's a police station nearby. Let me take you there and the nice officers will get you home safely."  
  
Deira shook her head. To her the words "home" and "safely" didn't belong in the same sentence.  
  
"Sweet girl, I promise you there'll be nothing to fear at home tonight or ever again."  
  
Her big green eyes were full of doubt.  
  
He sighed. "I need you to trust me. Do you think that you can do that?"  
  
In answer, she threw her little arms around his neck. As the child snuggled close, William the Bloody could feel the beat of her heart through the layers of cotton lawn. With each pulse, his hunger grew and he let it.   
  
After all, he had to pay a visit to Samuel Packard.  
The End. 


End file.
